Strange and Wondrous
by Vivien B
Summary: Tom Riddle and Minerva McGonagall are destined for each other. But destinies can be strange and wondrous, precarious and cruel. Completed story.
1. 1938: Prolougue

Strange and Wondrous 

By Vivien 

Rating: This chapter PG. 

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I am simply borrowing them. 

Summary: Tom Riddle and Minerva McGonagall were destined for each other. But often times destinies can lead one to strange and wondrous, cruel and difficult places. 

Prologue 

_1938, Diagon Alley _

Minerva McGonagall stood in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, staring at the new display of Silver Arrow 500 racing brooms. She was twisting a strand of her long black hair around a finger while she ran through the possible ways she could convince her father to purchase one for her as soon as possible. Malcolm McGonagall was not an easy person to persuade, and he had given her a Silver Arrow 300 last Christmas. But Minerva was convinced she must have this broom to be the best Chaser at Hogwarts. She would appeal to his honor and tradition of upholding Gryffindor house. That had to work, and if not, she'd convince her mother of the need. After all that's how she'd managed to finally get the Silver Arrow 300. 

"Minnie! Minnie!" yelled a freckle faced girl with bobbed brown hair from across the street. 

Minerva turned around sharply, an annoyed look on her face and dark hazel eyes flashing. "Caitlin, I wrote you just last week that I wish to be called Minerva from now on." 

Caitlin Crispin rolled her eyes as she ran up to Minerva. "Oh, sorry, _Minerva_, I forgot your royal edict." She smiled mischievously. "I don't know why you're taking on airs of maturity all of a sudden. We're only starting 4th year, after all." 

"Caitlin, I've always hated the name Minnie," said Minerva, brushing her hair from her face. "It makes me sound like a joke, not a daughter of Clan McGonagall. I'm not taking on airs. I'm taking my real name. I'll leave the taking on of airs to Miss Lucretia Malfoy, thank you very much." She nodded her head to where she spied Lucretia in the reflection of the window. 

The girls watched her reflection pass by. Minerva was the first to break out into giggles. "Do you see that ridiculous gown she's wearing? Where does she think she is, a ballroom?" 

"Sweet Circe, she probably worked five house elves to death just to get the reams of lace made," said Caitlin, laughing. 

Arm in arm, the girls left the display window and walked down Diagon Alley. "So what's your news, Caitlin?" asked Minerva. "You were so mysterious in your last letter." 

"It's not that big of news really, but it's rather unusual. Headmaster Dippet asked Father to perform a special errand today. Minerva, I've been this very morning to a real Muggle orphanage. It was a terrible place - just like what you'd read in Dickens." 

"I haven't read Dickens, Cait, and what on earth were you doing at an orphanage?" 

"I always forget you have no Muggles in your family, Minnie... oh, sorry, Minerva. You know, Clan McGonagall needs to get with the times. Maybe Alphonsus has a secret Muggle grandparent. It would be marriage made in heaven!" 

"Shush, Cait," said Minerva, cheeks going pink at the mention of Alphonsus Goyle, the handsome Ravenclaw 5th year she fancied from afar. "And I'll have you know that my great-grandmother on my mother's side was half Muggle. Now tell me why your father was sent to a Muggle orphanage." 

"Well, apparently one of the orphanage inmates is coming to Hogwarts this year. He's this mournful looking boy who seemed quite astounded by our arrival. Father delivered his Hogwarts letter in person and brought him to do his start of term shopping. Apparently there's a scholarship fund available for unfortunates like him, so Father is helping him buy his books and all." 

"Is he Muggle-born, then?" said Minerva 

"I don't know. I suppose so," said Caitlin. "Can you imagine Minerva, being raised by Muggles in a lonely, run down place with no parents?" 

"No, I can't. What's his name?" 

"Tom. Tom Riddle. Oh look, there he is now." 

Minerva saw Professor Crispin, the Potions Master and Caitlin's father, leaving Olivanders with a thin, dark-haired boy in tow. The boy was looking all around him, eyes wide. 

"Hello, Caitlin," said Professor Crispin, a plump, jovial man wearing tweed robes and a bowler hat. "And hello, Minerva, how were your holidays?" 

"Quite lovely, Professor Crispin," said Minerva, "and I quite enjoyed my Potions homework - I found the research on poisons and their antidotes to be fascinating." 

"Please note, Father, that she finished all of her homework two weeks after school ended," said Caitlin, making a face. 

Minerva pinched Caitlin playfully. "And that gave me more time for holiday making, I'll have you know." 

"Girls, you can be the very spirit of vexation at times," laughed Professor Crispin. "Minerva, I would like you to meet Tom Riddle. He's beginning his first year at Hogwarts." 

"Pleased to meet you, Tom," said Minerva, smiling at him and extending her hand. "I'm Minerva McGonagall." 

Tom hesitated for a moment before reaching his hand out to shake hers. "Nice to meet you," Tom said softly, meeting her eyes for the first time. Minerva was taken aback by the intensity of his gaze. Even though his face remained friendly, his eyes held a promise of something... something serious and strange in such a young face. She felt a shiver of recognition, of a link she couldn't explain in words or thought. It was quite unsettling. He smiled then, and his dark eyes changed. He was a normal boy again, if slightly taken aback by his circumstances. 

"Would you three like to go to Florian's for an ice cream? I've some business to do at Gringott's, and I'm sure Tom would rather spend the time with his classmates rather than myself." 

"Oh yes, please, Father," said Caitlin. "We can show him round a bit more as well." 

"Very good, very good," said Professor Crispin, giving Tom a pat on the head. Minerva noticed a glint of anger in Tom's eyes in response that vanished almost immediately. Professor Crispin gave each of the children enough coins to gorge themselves on whatever ice cream treat they chose and then said good-bye. 

As soon as he was out of earshot, Caitlin blurted out, "So what's it like growing up in an orphanage?" 

"Caitlin, how rude!" said Minerva, her eyes darting to Tom to see his reaction. 

"It's all right," said Tom, "I understand your curiosity. And I could ask you a similar question: what's it like growing in this world?" He smiled and cocked his head. 

"I apologize for my dear friend's lack of manners," said Minerva. "I'd be happy to answer any questions you have. I can imagine you have many. Shall we talk as we go?" 

The three began walking towards Florian's, chatting genially. 

---------------------------------------------------- 

Tom couldn't believe what was happening. He had always hoped that one day he'd be rescued from the orphanage. He had no idea his rescue would be like this. In a much read letter from his mother, written on her death bed, he had learned the promise of his destiny. She had assured him that she was a witch, and he would be a powerful wizard. One day he would be taken to her world, the world of magic. He was the great Salazar Slytherin's heir, but he was to tell no one of this until his power grew. He would do great things and avenge his mother's cruel treatment by the Muggle world. She wrote in the letter that this would not make sense to him now, but when he was eleven he would understand. When his eleventh birthday in May had come and gone, he had been devastated. But then absurd Professor Crispin had shown up at the orphanage. Tom knew that his mother's words were true, not the ravings of a dying woman as he had begun to fear. He knew that his destiny would be spectacular indeed. 

Now that he was here in this fantastical world he'd been promised, he was trying to process the information his senses were receiving. The wonders of Diagon Alley were nearly overwhelming. Tom had always had a vivid imagination, but the sights and sounds around him were beyond anything he had dreamed. He was a wizard, and magic was real. Of all the incredible things that had already happened to him in one day, he thought one of the most astonishing of all was the girl he was walking beside. Not horrid Caitlin, of course, who had alternately giggled and goggled at him all day. Minerva McGonagall was like no girl he had ever met. She held herself with the poise of a princess, and when she smiled at him, she wasn't pitying him or mocking him. He had always imagined witches like his mother were like this, proud and beautiful and kind. 

Tom Marvolo Riddle fell in quiet and intense love with Minerva McGonagall that day. She was unattainable - even at eleven he knew that - but he worshipped her just the same. Had he but known that when Minerva looked into his eyes for the first time she had also recognized a connection between them, things might have been different. But in the battle between Darkness and Light, love would not be powerful enough to sway the balance or change their destinies. 


	2. 1940: One Perfect Moment

Strange and Wondrous 

By Vivien 

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, I am simply borrowing them. 

Part 1: One Perfect Moment 

Hogwarts, October, 1940 

On a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon, Tom Riddle sat in a little used corner of the school library. He spent most of his time here, partly to reinforce his image of serious student and partly because it was a quiet place where few would bother him. It had disappointed him greatly upon his arrival at Hogwarts that, although the Wizarding world offered him much better treatment and gave him many more opportunities than the Muggle world, it was still populated by the same kinds of annoying and ignorant people. 

Even being sorted into Slytherin house had not brought him into a circle of kindred spirits. Oh, there were ambitious witches and wizards from old and respectable families who were power hungry enough, but they were hungry for wealth or fame or political placements. They didn't want the power Tom desired. They didn't want to reshape the Wizarding world as he did, and though they might bait Muggle-borns, not one sought revenge on Muggles as a whole. The few Slytherins who did gravitate to him in response to his growing Darkness tended to be mediocre. Tom only hoped that Lucretia Malfoy's infant cousin Lucius could grow up to do more to reflect the honor of the Malfoy family name, because Lucretia sure as hell wasn't going to do much besides look pretty on a rich husband's arm. 

Tom sighed and tried to focus again on the translation upon which he'd been working since school began. The book, written in medieval French, was said to hold details of Salazar Slytherin's prophecies regarding the Chamber of Secrets. He had used Imperio to get it. Archibald Rosier was weak willed enough he probably didn't have to use it, but he rather liked practicing the Imperius curse. The 3rd year had nicked it from his great-grandfather's secret library and given it to Tom on the Hogwart's Express. 

He pushed it aside in frustration. The Translating charms were not very accurate and his grasp of medieval French, while incredibly advanced for a fourteen-year-old, was not sufficient to make sense of the words. He would have to ask Solange Olivier, the Charms professor and Head of Slytherin House, for help with improving his Translation charms. Professor Olivier was extremely supportive of her students' quest for knowledge. He had had unlimited access to the Restricted Section for over a year, thanks to her. This didn't help him much at all today. If only he had someone more knowledgeable in the Dark Arts to turn to for advice and help. Being the Heir of Slytherin wasn't easy when you had to be Innocuous Tom Riddle as well. 

Luckily, Tom had been born under the sign of Gemini, making his capacity for having two distinct personalities a bit easier. He could tutor idiots like Hannah Clay (or as they referred to her in the Slytherin Common Room as "Dumb As") for pocket money - an idea of that damnable Dumbledore's when Hogsmeade visits for Tom began last year - _and_ make the highest marks in all of his classes _and_ be an honorable and decorated member of the Dueling Club while still planning his path to his destiny, smiling sweetly and shyly the whole time. Moving between his two personas was tiring at times, but it was the only means to the end he wanted so badly. 

There was only one person at Hogwarts whose opinion mattered to him. From that first meeting with Minerva McGonagall in Diagon Alley, he had known that she was an embodiment of everything that was good about the Wizarding world. She was all that Tom wanted to be - wealthy, from an excellent Pure Blood family, well connected, and well liked. One of the main reasons he could bare being Sweet, Brave Tom Riddle was for her. While they had never been close friends, she always spoke to him like he was an equal, not a Half-blood orphan deserving of pity. They would sometimes even share a study table in the library. He would ask the occasional question, for which he already knew an answer, just to hear her explain the properties of obscure herbs or how to best Transfigure bats into buttons. 

Those study sessions had stopped last spring when Alphonsus Goyle finally noticed Minerva. They had started courting, and Minerva had had little time left over for Tom. He made sure his subtle torment of Goyle's Slytherin second cousin, Albert, stepped up a notch after that. But he still got to see her at Dueling Club, and to his delight, he didn't have to hold back in his defensive charms and curses when in competition with her. They were an equal match, and, though he was loathe to admit it, she could often best him. Something between them seemed to crackle with energy and tension when they faced each other. He knew it was probably just his teen aged vanity imagining that, but in his fantasies... 

The sound of books being placed on the table woke him from his reverie. Dear Merlin, it was Minerva. He hastily made sure to brush a spare parchment over his book. 

"Minerva, hello. Do you want this table? I could move if you need me-" Tom began babbling. In her presence, the Dark Lord Voldemort he had begun imagining himself as vanished immediately, leaving Sweet, Stupid Tom Riddle to muddle through. 

"No, Tom, I've actually been looking for you," Minerva smiled. She sat down across from him, her eyes making a sweep of the table and its contents. "How were your holidays?" 

"Painful as usual," Tom said, hatred and bitterness flashing through his dark eyes. "Nothing a few Healing spells couldn't handle." 

"I'm so sorry," Minerva began, aghast. "I thought Professor Olivier had arranged a place for you to stay." 

"The family emigrated to Canada at the last minute," said Tom. "Didn't want to stay in England with the Muggle war going on, and Grindelwald's War getting closer. So it was back to the orphanage. But please don't think on it. I'm back home now, and that's all that really matters." He flashed her his Brave Tom smile and changed the subject. He didn't ever want pity from her. "And how are you doing in your last year at Hogwarts? Are you managing to fit Quidditch captain, Head Girl, and Dueling Club President in with your class schedule?" 

"Just barely," she laughed. "I do have a lot on my plate. Which is one reason I've been looking for you, actually. I have a matter of some importance to discuss with you." 

Tom felt the blood rush to his cheeks and other more private parts of his body. Minerva had been looking for him? "Please, go on," he managed to say without his voice wavering. 

Minerva cast a Privacy charm with a casual flick of her wand. "I was chosen for the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class this year. I've had an idea for my class project, but it's dangerous, risky, and, well, technically illegal. I need someone who's not only bright enough to assist me, but who is discrete enough to keep it secret." Noticing Tom's eyes widen in surprise she added, "I wouldn't ask _you_ to do anything illegal, of course. That would be on my head. Do you want me to tell you about my project? If not, I'll stop now, and you can pretend I never mentioned it." 

"I'm intrigued. Continue, please," he said, wondering if he hadn't fallen asleep and was now dreaming. 

Scooting her chair a bit closer, Minerva said, "I have a theory about a way to block the Imperius curse. I still have a great deal of research to do, but I think a certain combination of Focusing potion and Deflecting charm might be able to effectively block it. If I can develop a working theory, it will help my chances of getting into the Ministry's research laboratories. If I can make it actually work, the sky's the limit. The only thing is that I'd have to actually perform Imperio to test it, and there lies the rub." 

"But Minerva, your father is the Minister of Magical Law Enforcement," said Tom, a bit baffled, but thrilled to hear a hint of deviousness existed within the perfectly Gryffindor Minerva McGonagall. "Won't you risk his job if you're discovered using an Unforgivable Curse? Not to mention the risks to yourself. You're going to get into the Ministry no matter, Minerva. It's not like you need to do this." 

"That's not the point, Tom. This can work, I know it can. It might be what's needed to sway the war with Grindelwald, to help our side against Dark forces in the future. England is safe for the time being owing partly to the fact that my father is one of the best Law Enforcement Ministers in history, but it's a matter of time before the war reaches our shores. With the Wizarding world and the Muggle world at war, chaos would ensue." 

'And wouldn't that be interesting,' thought Tom. He wasn't necessarily a supporter of Grindelwald. From studying his campaigns and methods, he thought he was quite the presumptuous blowhard for all his power. 'When I'm in power, I'll never let myself get that arrogant. That's how you make mistakes and fail.' Tom speculated for a moment. Minerva wasn't complimenting her father's prowess out of family pride. He was a formidable wizard who was indeed marshaling the forces of the Ministry to not only combat Grindelwald but to aid in the wartime protection of Muggle England as much as was prudent. Tom wouldn't want Malcom McGonagall gunning for him. 

"Minerva, why are you asking me? I'm not even in your year," he said. 

"Oh please, Tom, you might as well be. Everyone knows how brilliant you are. You're probably the most talented student in Charms at school, and you do just as well in Potions. Plus," and with this she raised an eyebrow and gave him a most direct look, "I've watched you closely for four years. I know you've had access to the Restricted Section for awhile now, and I also know that the book you're reading would be confiscated by the Ministry if anyone but me noticed the symbols on the spine. I know that you've a knowledge of curses and hexes that are also quite suspect, and I would report you myself if I didn't know you were a good person at heart." 

Tom went hot and cold at the same time. "I simply believe that one must study the Dark Arts to better fight them," he lied quickly. 

"I agree. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I think you have knowledge that I need to make a difference. What do you say? Will you help me? I'd have to cast Imperio on you for testing purposes, but I promise I'd never force you to do anything untoward. We'll be research partners, and I'll give you full credit for whatever we do. Would you like to help?" 

What Sweet, Brave Tom Riddle wanted to say was "Minerva, I would do anything for you." The Dark Lord Voldemort wanted to say, "You blackmailing bitch - join with me, and we will rule the world." Luckily, he was too shocked to say much more than, "All right then. When do we start?" 

-------------------------------------------------------- 

As the school year went by, Tom noticed that his motivation to ferret out the Dark secrets of his heritage faded somewhat. Not that he didn't want to pursue his destiny, but working with Minerva was... He had never known anything like it. They met a couple of afternoons a week in one of the dungeon workrooms connected to the Potions classroom. Officially they were working on a generic curse deflecting potion. Unofficially Tom was quite impressed with Minerva's grasp of Dark strategy and usage of Imperio. He wondered sometimes if maybe she wasn't the same as he was, hiding her Darker nature under the noble exterior, but he doubted it. She used what Dark methods she explored only as a means to defeat them. 

When he was with Minerva, he wasn't Sweet, Brave Tom Riddle or Lord Voldemort. He was more himself than he'd been with anyone else. He had to hide his vast knowledge of the Dark Arts and his motives for knowing them of course, but he didn't have to maintain the mask of model student and tragic innocent with her either. He had found his first real friend, a person with whom he could share almost everything. And if he had been in love with Minerva McGonagall the image before, he was now intensely in love with Minerva McGonagall the person. He never let on, however, no matter how comfortable he felt with her. He wanted nothing but passage of time to make their time together come to an end. 

The first time she used Imperio to test her theory, Minerva had been very nervous. He'd been tempted to tell that he'd used Imperio many times, and it wasn't a hard curse to perform after the first time, but he knew that her hands were trembling for ethical reasons, not practical ones. He'd simply smiled and made a joke about making him act like a chicken. She had cast it successfully, but it didn't matter. He had been under her thrall with no magic at all. It turned out that the potion and charm had not quite worked the way she'd expected, and more fine tuning of the method was needed. Tom was overjoyed it hadn't worked on the first go. 

By the time the first of June came round, Minerva and Tom worked together almost every day to make the final preparations for the last testing. Minerva had been a nervous wreck, waiting for word on whether she'd been accepted into a Ministry position, studying for her N.E.W.T.'s, and completing her Advanced Transfiguration class project. Tom knew she would do well, no matter her fears. He also realized with an increasing mournfulness that he only had a short time left with her. She'd be gone from Hogwarts, and he would be alone again, surrounded by mediocrity. 

The second Friday in June was the day the last version of the Focusing potion would be ready. As Minerva would be occupied with the N.E.W.T.'s the next week and other end of school activities, this would be the final day of the project. Tom was out of sorts the whole morning and had sloppily allowed his attention to wander in Transfiguration. This resulted in an after class conversation with his least favorite teacher. 

There was no real reason Tom had to dislike Albus Dumbledore so, other than the fact that Tom felt like Dumbledore could see straight through him. One skill Tom had refined throughout his years was building up telepathic walls so that any Legilimens at the castle wouldn't be able to read his thoughts. Whenever he was near Dumbledore, he instinctively kept the shields firmly in place. Dumbledore made Tom very nervous, even paranoid. 

"Tom, I noticed you were not quite with us in class today," said Dumbledore kindly. 

In his finest Sweet, Brave Tom persona, he had answered back, "I apologize, Sir. My mind was elsewhere. It won't happen again." 

"No doubt you were thinking of your project with Minerva McGonagall," Dumbledore continued. "I understand the final test is today." 

"Urm.. yes, it is," said Tom. "Minerva has kept you up to date on the project then, has she?" As always when talking with Dumbledore, Tom felt like he was being backed into a corner and watched himself closely for mistakes that would trip him up. 

"Oh, she keeps me informed," said Dumbledore, looking at him in that piercing way of his. "I hope your efforts prove successful, Tom. I also hope care is taken, as it should be with any experimentation." 

"We're very careful in our testing procedures," said Tom, hating himself for starting to sweat under his professor's scrutiny. 

"I should hope next class period your attention will be in the classroom, Tom." 

"It will be, Sir. May I go now?" 

Dumbledore nodded and watched as Tom left the classroom. Once Tom was in the hallway, he took a deep breath. He decided he'd head down to the workroom instead of eating lunch. He wasn't hungry anymore. 

------------------------------------------------------ 

"Tom, I have the best of news!" Minerva cried as she entered the workroom, brandishing a parchment. "I've been accepted into the Ministry! I'll be working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a research assistant." 

"Minerva, that's wonderful," said Tom, his eyes taking in the color of her sparkling eyes, trying to memorize the way her hair fell about her face. "I'm so happy for you. I know it's a relief to have found out before the N.E.W.T.'s." 

"A huge relief." Clapping her hands she said, "Well, partner, are you ready for the final test? This could be the most important day of our lives." 

Tom smiled. He hadn't the heart to tell her that he had figured out two counter curses that would likely damage the Deflection charm enough to negate the boosted Focusing potion. If she were still in magical law enforcement when he came to power, he realized that they would likely be enemies. He wanted that day to be far off, but he also wanted every advantage he could to succeed. He would keep his knowledge to himself. 

"I'm ready if you are," he said. 

Minerva stirred the potion in the cauldron clockwise five times. As she was preparing the dosage in a vial, she said, "I was thinking that I haven't had the experience of trying the potion and charm myself. It would be useful to make sure that more than one subject was tested. Would you be able, and willing, to try the Imperius on me? It's really not a difficult curse once you get over the moral implications. You don't have to," she hastily added, " and I wouldn't want you to if you're not comfortable." 

"I'm not sure, Minerva," he said. Of all the times he'd used Imperio, he'd never once felt hesitation, but this was different. "I could try, if you really needed me to." 

"I'd like to know, Tom," she said. "But as our protocol has always been with you as test subject, will you take a dosage first?" She handed him the vial she had prepared. 

"Of course, Minerva," he said, drinking it down and feeling a surge of the magic at work. 

"Tom, I have to tell you once again how much I appreciate all your help. Not everyone would do this for a friend's school project." 

Tom smiled. "It's been an incredible experience for me, Minerva. I'm honored you chose me as a partner." 

"Ready?" asked Minerva. She took a deep breath, pointed her wand at him and said, "Imperio." 

The dreaminess and loss of control washed over him like a wave. It would be so easy to succumb to this, to be her puppet, to do as she bid for as long as she wanted. He understood how his own victims felt now and had less guilt about his actions than ever. The Focusing charm worked its own magic, and his self will came back with a jolt just as he was putting a foot in front of him. 

Minerva once more said, "Walk towards me." Tom shook off the Imperio, and said, "No! Finite Incantatem." 

He stood there, blinking for a moment as he came fully to his senses. Minerva had sat down at the work table and was writing down notes in her log book. "It worked that time, didn't it? It'll have to be refined and made more practical for magic users in the field, but it worked. This is incredible, Tom. With this we have struck a small blow towards the enemy." She beamed at him with a joy he couldn't help but reciprocate. It was quite an accomplishment even if he would have to defeat it utterly in the near future. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. 

"Are you all right?" said Minerva. 

"I'm fine," he replied. "A little tired, is all." 

"Are you still up to trying to cast Imperius? You don't have to. In fact, maybe you shouldn't. I can always wait till I'm working in the lab to further the research." 

"I think maybe you're right, Minerva," he said. He didn't want to use Imperius on her, no matter what the motive. Not now, hopefully not ever. Desperate to change the subject, he continued. "Minerva, I'd like to celebrate. Would you be too busy tomorrow to take advantage of the last Hogsmeade weekend? I'd like to buy you a butter beer to toast our accomplishments." 

"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Tom," said Minerva. "I can only go for a little while, though. Shall we walk together or do you want to meet me there?" 

"We could leave school by 11:00. Would that be early enough?" 

"I think that would be fine. Now, could you do another of your cursee write-ups for me? Describe everything you felt the entire time. And thank you again, Tom, I really mean it." 

"But of course." Tom smiled and went to sit beside Minerva at the table. Taking out a quill and parchment he began to write. 

------------------------------------------ 

The last Hogsmeade weekend of the year was usually the most crowded and rowdiest of them all. Tom and Minerva were lucky to find a small corner table for two in the extremely busy Three Broomsticks. Tom hoped he wasn't acting like a total prat, but this might be the last time he ever sat with Minerva or chatted with her. They were having a splendid time and spent a good deal of the hour they'd been together laughing. It felt good to laugh, to talk, to be in her presence on this beautiful summery day. 

"Tom, I wanted to ask you, have you found a place to stay this summer? I've been worried but didn't want to bring it up." 

"Yes, actually, Lucretia Malfoy's family offered to take me in." Tom was glad he wasn't going back to the orphanage, but he was not enthused about spending a summer with Lucretia. 

"Oh, well, that's good then," said Minerva, with the slightest hint of disapproval. "I didn't realize you two were such good friends." 

"We're not," said Tom, pitching his voice a bit lower, "I can't stand her actually. But it beats the orphanage." He tried to keep a straight face, but Minerva started giggling again. "I think... she fancies me, though," he managed to say between his laughter. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry for you," said Minerva, wiping tears from her eyes. "Try not to get betrothed. Those Malfoys are crafty. You'd best keep a dose of Focusing potion with you at all times." 

"I don't know. She'd make a beneficial ally, if her father would allow a Half-blood to tarnish the family name. And what about you, Minerva, are there wedding bells ringing for you soon?" He had been wanting to ask her this for awhile. 

"With Alphonsus? Merlin no, not yet. He's very sweet and all, but McGonagall women tend to wait a bit before marriage. I'll be settled in my career before I settle down with anyone." 

"Good," said Tom. "And you do know, of course, that I'll have to personally approve any prospective mate of yours. Not just any wizard off the street will be worthy of the great Minerva McGonagall." 

"How sweet, Tom," said Minerva. "You will stay in touch won't you? I'd hate to lose contact with you. I'll be happy to be a reference for you when you leave school. I bet I can even help you get a job in the Ministry when the time comes. Maybe we'll be able to work together again." 

"Maybe," he said wistfully. 

Minerva took a drink of her butter beer. "Tom, you've kept our secrets this whole time. Can you keep another one?" 

"Of course, Minerva, what is it?" 

"I've been dying to tell someone," she whispered, "but I'd been advised not to. You know I've been working on a special project for Advanced Transfiguration, right? Tom, I'm an Animagus. I made my first transformation last night after we had finished up in the lab." 

"Congratulations!" said Tom. "That's an incredibly rare gift, Minerva. What animal form are you?" 

"I'd better not tell," she said. "I'm not registered with the Ministry yet. Can you imagine though? This has been an incredible way to end a school year." 

Before he could stop himself, he said, "You are magnificent, Minerva. You're everything that's good about our world. I don't... I don't know what I'll do next year when you're gone." 

"That's high praise indeed, Tom," said Minerva, patting his hand. "You'll do fine. You're such a good student, and all the teachers go on and on about your potential. I'll miss you, as well. I promise I'll write you often." 

If she hadn't touched him, Tom probably wouldn't have done what he did next. As it was, the feel of her hand on his, the closeness of her body in the chair next to him overwhelmed him. Looking into her eyes, Tom wanted nothing more than to pull her to him and kiss her and never stop and before he knew it, that's just what he was doing. The moment their lips touched, time fragmented for him. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears as he placed his trembling hands on each side of her face. Her lips were soft and yielding as he moved forward, and he slipped one arm around her, pulling her closer. He could have been kissing her for a second or an hour when he felt her hand touch his. He broke the kiss with a start. 

Horrified, Tom said, "I am... Please forgive me. That was inexcusable. I.." Minerva looked surprised, but not angry. They were both breathing hard from the intensity of the kiss. He was still close to her, and before he could lose himself in her again, he said, "I'm sorry, Minerva." He got up clumsily and fled the Three Broomsticks, running nearly the whole way back to his dormitory. 

The next day, Minerva sought him out at dinner and they briefly spoke about the event. She told him there was nothing to forgive, and he apologized again anyway. After that they didn't have much time to see each other until they bade each other an awkward farewell on the Hogwarts Express. He started translating his medieval French in earnest and with the influence of the Malfoys became focused once more on his path to become the most powerful Dark wizard in the world. Minerva kept her promise to write, but the letters were never more than friendly greetings and eventually came less and less often as the months passed. Tom had his memories, though, and he locked those away in a part of his heart that hardened with each day. He would always remember that kiss, that one perfect moment in his life. The Darkness brewing inside might one day reject all other notions of love and light, but that moment would haunt him forever. 


	3. 1955: Meeting of Destinies Part 1

Strange and Wondrous 

By Vivien 

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. J.K. Rowling does. 

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Albania, 1955: Meeting of Destinies, Part 1 

Minerva looked around the dingy public room of the Laughing Dragon Inn and took another slug of whiskey from her tankard. Her seat by the fire was conspicuous, but it was so cold in the room she hadn't cared. What was she doing here, in this dreary hole in the wall on Christmas Eve? She'd asked herself the same question several times since she'd Apparated into this rustic, craggy corner of Albania. The same answer came up each time - she was doing her wretched duty. 

'The tree is decorated by now, and the children are feasting on Christmas cake. I'd be sitting in a comfortable armchair sipping Glen Fidditch and arguing politics with Demetrius instead of swallowing this swill,' she thought miserably, imagining the warmth and noise of Clan McGonagall Castle on Christmas Eve. 

Taking another sip, she reflected how she'd have been so much better off if she'd never become an Animagus at all. She might have had the research career she'd wanted instead of serving the Department of Mysteries as a field agent. It had been exciting at first, collecting information on Grindelwald and his lackeys in her cat form, obtaining access that the Unspeakables never could have. Once he was defeated and his scattered supporters mostly tracked down and brought to justice, Minerva had figured she would finally be reassigned to the labs. Her Imperius defense had been well received and refined by other Ministry researchers, and she wanted back into that world of hypothesizing and experimenting. In the end, she'd been denied. 

The Ministry needed her. She was vital to their intelligence gathering operations. Her father denied her transfer himself, recommending that Minerva go even further undercover. So starting seven years ago, she was given an equally unwanted job in the Department of International Magical Cooperation as a cover for her missions. She pushed papers and filed forms in the mornings in her small, windowless office in a corner of the Ministry and then worked as needed in the Department of Mysteries surrounded by Unspeakable field agents who hated her because she was, at times, valued more highly than they. She periodically checked the Register of Animagi for possible replacements, but her gift was rare. 

Her sense of honor and duty were strong. She was doing good things for the Ministry and for the entire Wizarding community of Europe by ferreting out Dark Wizards. She'd saved the lives of countless Aurors by providing accurate information for their quarry. But she hated her life. She worked odd hours and was often out of the country. Her social life had dwindled away to nothing. She'd watched the majority of her friends marry and then begin families while she prevailed in a career she despised. Now here she was in bloody Albania, a known refuge for Dark wizards owing to its isolation and sparse population of Muggles or magic users, to track down rumors of a Grindelwald follower living here in exile. A Ministry Seer had confirmed that there was a Dark presence rising in this part of the country. She had protested and complained, but she had finally come. 

Minerva drained the tankard. There had to be change in her life soon. She couldn't stand the isolation and bleakness she stared down every day. This year she wouldn't let her father persuade her. She would resign and do something else, anything else. She huddled in her chair as a chilling breeze swept over her. The door of the public room had opened and then quickly slammed shut. At least in cat form she had fur for desolate nights like this. The night after Christmas was the scheduled surveillance assignment for the supposed Dark Gathering in a nearby forest clearing. This was when the foretold presence would arise, although Minerva rarely had faith in Seers' vague visions. 

She would tough out this last assignment, and that would be it. She wouldn't let herself be talked out of her decision this time. This mission was the last one, even if it meant she had to keep her tedious office job full time. She couldn't do this anymore. Life was passing her by and all she had done the past fifteen years had been to watch. 

She stared into the fire, imagining her families' celebrations and wishing for a change. Any kind of change. 

---------------------------------------------- 

Tom Marvolo burst through the door of the Laughing Dragon. The rage smoldering within him had cooled off somewhat during the walk through the frigid winter evening. He could've Apparated here, but sometimes the best thing Tom could do when he was this angry was to walk. He let the door slam behind him and strode up to the bar. 

"Evening Mr. Marvolo, sir," said the wizened barkeep, "What can I get for you this fine Christmas Eve?" 

Tom scowled, the rage emanating from him tangibly. The barkeep froze. Tom Marvolo had a reputation in these parts. One didn't cross him or make him unhappy if one wanted to remain unscathed. "Fire Bellied Brandy. And lots of it," Tom snarled. 

The old man scuttled off quickly to fetch the drink. Tom sat down on a bar stool, leaning his head into one hand, trying to breathe deeply. He hated feeling this impotent anger at the preposterous series of events that had become his life. 

'That bitch Svetlana Karkaroff, treating me like a common servant,' he fumed inwardly. 'How dare she look down her large nose at me.' 

The day had not gone well. If Tom were completely honest with himself, the last few years hadn't gone very well. His search for Dark knowledge had brought him here, seeking out Lord Modrig, a powerful ally of Grindelwalt's. Modrig had been in hiding all these years with the Karkaroff family, Russian aristocracy who'd fled to Albania in 1917 - even the magical community of Russia had been affected by the events of that year. Tom had become an apprentice to Modrig in exchange for his dignity, it would seem. 

As a cover, he worked for the family as a private tutor. Durmstrang had been closed indefinitely after the defeat of Grindelwald, and it wouldn't be opening anytime soon if the Ministries of Magic for France and Britain had any control over the matter. So here he was, brilliant and powerful, but not powerful enough, teaching the Karkaroff children the basics to pass their qualifying exams. The job itself wasn't so bad; he actually enjoyed tutoring the eldest daughter, Irina, who had a brain that would sadly go to waste when her arranged marriage to a distant Black cousin transpired next year. Magda, the next oldest was a bit insipid, but not a terrible student. Little Evgena, who at ten had surpassed her older brothers, could be delight. But Ivan was a fourteen year old waste of skin and Igor was an obnoxious eight-year-old brat. And, of course, those two were treated as the only children of matter in the family. 

Tom took a large drink of the brandy, relishing how quickly it began numbing his heated emotions. Teaching the children of the great Karkaroff family wasn't a bad thing. He enjoyed the academics; it kept him sharp on knowledge other wizards forgot over the years. Being an apprentice wasn't so terrible, even though Tom felt like his talents had, as usual, been unrecognized and wasted for the most part. But he hated that pompous bastard, Modrig and the way he lorded over all those around him. He had taken it upon himself to work on gaining power on his own, slowly but steadily, through secret Invitations of Darkness rituals. One day, he would personally show Modrig what a real Dark wizard was. In the meantime, he had to deal with the horrid events of the day. 

Not so foolishly, he had made an overture to Svetlana and Sergei Karkaroff regarding the hand of Magda. She had not been promised to anyone yet, and an alliance with the Karkaroff family would be a tremendous advantage to Tom. It was a purely political machination. He had no feelings for the girl, but she was innocuous enough to not make marriage unthinkable. Sergei, a stern former Count of the Russian Magical Court, turned him down firmly but not unkindly. Svetlana had laughed in his face and asked how dare he make such a request knowing the impurity of his heritage. Then she reminded him that he was expected to attend the annual Servants' Christmas dinner and that he had three whole days off for Christmas. She usually only allowed him two days, but she factored in an extra day to celebrate the Dark Rites ceremony scheduled the night after Christmas. Tom had stared at her, wanting to scream that he was a powerful Dark wizard, not a lowly servant. But at that moment, he'd finally realized that he was indeed a servant, and he'd never been thought of as anything else. He had left then, ashamed and furious. 

Now he was here, hoping to get very drunk, very quickly. Maybe he would owl Lucretia Malfoy Rosier and Apparate to Paris for a little Muggle sport. Lucretia was always up for fun diversions. That was about the only thing that would take his mind off the wretched state of his life. Except, of course, that her oldest spawn would be back from his first term at Hogwarts, and Lucretia would be too busy spoiling the brat even more rotten. He took another drink. Other than the close circle of Dark wizards in this region and the Karkaroff children, he had virtually no contact with any other people. None of those people he would consider friends. Of course, he didn't need friends, never had. But sometimes on nights like this, Dark magic wasn't enough to fill the loneliness that crept into his hardened heart. 

---------------------------------------- 

Minerva sighed. Maybe she'd get another whiskey. She was officially supposed to be gathering information, but by the old gods, it was Christmas Eve. Her overeager supervisors could get stuffed. 

She looked towards the bar where a handsome young man sat, looking nearly as miserable as she felt. He looked familiar, but she couldn't see his face. 

'Reminds me of Tom Riddle,' she thought, and her flesh prickled with the memory of the kiss with which he'd surprised her so completely that day in the Three Broomsticks. Had she not been leaving school and in calf love with Alphonsus, she would have pursued him. He was so clever and sweet, so intensely sad, and under all of this, there was something about him that had always made her feel uneasy in an excited, forbidden way. 

The man at the bar turned towards her as if he felt her stare. Dark eyes flashing with irritation, he looked at her and his eyes widened. 

------------------------------------------- 

Tom turned quickly round in his seat, spoiling for a fight. Whoever had been staring at him was in for it now. Maybe it was some out of town traveler who could be mercilessly beaten in a duel. None of the regulars at the Laughing Dragon would be so stupid as to stand up to him. 

When he saw the woman by the fire, the anger dissipated into astonishment. Her hair was done up in a severe bun, and the pinched, tired aspect made her face seem much older than it should, but that woman had to be Minerva McGonagall. What on earth was she doing in Albania? The astonishment was quickly replaced by an overwhelming tide of desire and passion, the likes of which he hadn't felt since he was a teenager. And those feelings mingled with a sudden caution - she had gone into the Ministry as a researcher. Was she here on Ministry business? He would have to be careful, and he hated it. Then again, she might not even want to speak to him after how he'd acted those many years ago. He ventured a tentative smile. When she returned it, he walked over to the fireplace. 

-------------------------------------------- 

Minerva had been a bit startled by the realization the man at the bar was indeed Tom Riddle. What on earth was he doing in Albania? She had never heard what had happened to him after school. She had been so busy with work she hadn't even been able to attend Caitlin Crispin's wedding much less keep up with the schoolmates with whom she'd lost touch. Dear Merlin, he had grown even more handsome. His wavy dark hair was most becoming, and while she'd remembered him being tall, she didn't remember him having such a strapping presence. Those dark eyes of his had a mesmerizing quality, full of mystery and vulnerability and sex. He smiled, a tentative, little boy smile, and she remembered all the hours they'd spent working together. She smiled back genuinely, even though a little voice at the back of her mind cautioned her to be careful. She could be in treacherous waters. And that made the whole thing that much more exciting. He was walking to her now, and she rose from her chair. There was an awkward moment before she embraced him. 

"How good it is to see you again," he said, wrapping his arms around her, breathing in her scent, feeling her body close to him once more. To her surprise, Minerva felt herself almost melting into the warmth of his arms. It had been so long since she'd been touched like this. She broke off the hug, holding him at arms length and regarding him. To be honest she was also feeling the strong muscles of his arms under her hands. 

"Tom Riddle? Is that really you?" 

"Yes, it's me. Although I go by Tom Marvolo now. I dropped my father's name as soon as I was able." 

"Marvolo?" said Minerva returning to her seat. 

"It's my middle name," explained Tom, settling into the chair beside hers. "My mother's maiden name." He couldn't believe he was actually talking to her again. All the old feelings swirling to the forefront of his consciousness made him dizzy. 

"I've read about the Marvolo family," said Minerva. "They were quite distinguished. If somewhat infamous." She grinned at him. 

"So I understand," said Tom, "Pity there aren't any left but me." 

"Oh, Tom," said Minerva, remembering the sad, lonely boy she had once known. 

"Please, no pity from you, Minerva McGonagall. It is still McGonagall, isn't it?" he asked, trying to sound breezy and not in any way probing. 

"But of course, Tom," she said slyly. "And what about you - is there a fair Madame Marvolo about?" 

Tom laughed. "I've never married. Never got around to it." And never found any woman who could hold a candle to you, he wanted to say. "But do tell, Minerva, what in Merlin's name are you doing in Albania? I recall you always bragging that Clan McGonagall Christmases were not to be missed." 

Minerva's smile grew forced as she leapt into her prepared lie. "Oh, well, after this many Christmases at home, one yearns for something different." 

"Don't tell me you're here on holiday," said Tom, noticing the pinched look he'd seen in her face was back again. 

"No, no, I'm actually here on Ministry business," she said. 

Tom froze for a moment. His instinct was correct then. "Oh," he ventured as smoothly as he could, "is it a top secret Ministry research mission?" 

Minerva laughed, but Tom thought he heard an undertone of melancholy. "No, no," she said. 

'He might remember too much' she thought a bit frantically. She smiled a little more fiercely and launched into her cover story. "No, I'm not a researcher. I found it not to be as much to my liking as I thought it would be. I am a Sub Minister for the Department of International Magical Cooperation. For some odd reason, the Albanian Ministry called for a summit meeting the day after Christmas regarding the unification of wand manufacturing requirements. I was assigned to represent the Ministry and since I'd never been to Albania before, I decided I might as well come a bit early and experience the holidays in a slightly exotic land." The pity was that as a part of her office job, she actually did have to attend the summit meeting and present a paper she'd spent two horrifyingly boring weeks preparing. She could've started crying right there if she hadn't been trained to hide her real emotions so exceedingly well. 

"You're a bureaucrat, then," said Tom, rather puzzled. "I'd never have figured that." 

Minerva nodded sheepishly and at that moment hated the Ministry, hated her father, and hated her honorable self more intensely than she'd ever known. "What are you doing in Albania, Tom?" she asked with only the slightest waver in her voice. 

Tom smiled sardonically and said, "Why, I'm a tutor for a Russian expatriate family. An extremely illustrious position with an embarrassingly large salary, but somehow I bear up." 

"Oh, well, that's fantastic, Tom," said Minerva, "Do you like being a teacher?" 

"It's a good position," Tom lied, "There are five children, and I teach all subjects. It keeps me busy as the parents want the children to be schooled throughout the year, but I have room and board at the estate, so it works out nicely." 

"How nice for you," she said, wistfully. "I remember you tutored students back at school. It must be lovely to be doing something you enjoy." 

Tom didn't say anything in reply, but nodded his head and smiled. All of sudden he felt a familiar burning behind his ear. Damn Modrig - he was calling Tom by activating the Dark brand he'd been given upon his initiation to the Dark Orders. He would have to immediately report to Modrig's side or face punishment. It might be worth it to spend more time with Minerva though. She seemed to be glad to see him, and the possibilities that might lead to made a round of Cruciatus sound almost like a good bargain. This close to the ceremony though, he ought not to disregard his master. 

"It has been ever so nice to see you again, Minerva, but I'm afraid I was only planning on popping into the pub for a moment. I'm expected back at the estate, you see." 

"Of course," said Minerva sadly. "Well..." 

Tom stood up and was struck with a marvelous idea. "Listen, if you don't have plans, would you like to come as my guest to the, um, the Servant's Christmas Feast tomorrow. The Karkaroff's always put on an opulent spread for us." 

Minerva's face lit up and she stood to face him. "I'd be delighted, Tom. When?" 

"I'll meet you here at noon to escort you," he said. Throwing caution to the wind, he bent down and kissed her softly on the cheek. "I'm sorry I must dash. I'd love to stay and catch up, but we'll have plenty of time tomorrow." 

Their eyes locked, and Minerva felt a shiver of excitement and desire pass through her. "It sounds wonderful. I'm very glad we ran into each other like this. It's almost as if we never left that laboratory." 

He smiled. Reaching for her hand, he lifted it to his lips. "Part of me never did, Minerva," he said and kissed her hand. "Till tomorrow then." He let go of her hand and Disapparated. Minerva stood for a moment on shaky legs, feeling hot and cold all over. Then she went up to her room, happy that she was stuck in Albania doing two jobs she hated for the Christmas holidays. 

--------------------------------------- 

Minerva woke Christmas morning rather more cheered than she'd been for some time. Her room at the inn had been transfigured into her room at the castle, and for a moment she thought she was home. When she realized she wasn't, she felt a wistful thread of homesickness that was soon replaced by nervous energy. She got out of bed and to her surprise found presents at the foot of her bed. 

'They must have arranged this to cheer me up,' she thought, as she opened one of the card on top of the gifts. 

"Dearest daughter," it read, "we are proud of you and of your sense of honor. We plan to celebrate the holiday in earnest when you return. Until then, please know we are thinking of you. Lovingly, Mother and Father." Minerva smiled. The note was in her mother's handwriting - her father had probably not even known she sent it. She opened the smaller package. Inside was a beautifully worked cloak clasp, studded with diamonds and emeralds. She held it in her hand, admiring the intricate Celtic designs wrought in the gold of the clasp. Carefully placing it back into its box, she reached for the large present. It held a Self Warming Cloak of soft grey wool and thick fur lining. She swept it around herself and instantly felt the warmth envelop her body. Her mother always knew how to pick practical, but exquisite presents. 

Minerva lay back on her bed, still wrapped in the cloak. She had to think about what to wear today. Usually she didn't concern herself with such things. She wore a basic uniform of black or navy work robes most if the time, with similarly styled simple gowns for home. But she did have one dress robe that would be perfect for today. It was a Renaissance styled gown, with bell sleeves, a low cut bodice, and a full skirt. If she could Transfigure one of her work robes into the style, that would work perfectly. And of course, it would be green, her most flattering color. She leapt up, throwing off the cloak, and began the task. 

-------------------------------------- 

Right before noon, Tom almost decided to send Minerva his apologies. What was he thinking, asking her into a house in which she could be in great danger? She might be a minor diplomat, but she still worked for a powerful foreign Ministry that would be very interested in the Karkaroff family and their activities. But he wanted so to spend time with her. He could place general protective wards upon her without her knowledge - that would protect her from obvious danger. If she went to his apartments after the dinner, she would be safe, and if they returned to the Inn, she would be mostly out of any enemy's reach. He could protect her. 

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He'd chosen a red ascot to wear with his dress robes of black velvet. It was his finest and most expensive garment, and only worn to impress. "You look lovely, dear," the mirror said cooingly. Tom smoothed his hair and Apparated to the Inn. 

--------------------------------------- 

Minerva had been waiting in the Public Room when Tom arrived. After all the work, she felt a bit foolish in her finery. What if she was overdressed? Did she look ridiculous? When she saw the look on Tom's face when he first saw her, she assumed she looked splendid. 

Tom took a moment to look Minerva over. She was in a stunning gown of green that highlighted her curves. Her hair shone like silk and cascaded down her back. It was as if she'd stepped from one of his dreams of her. 

"I approve of the color," he finally said, trying not to sound like a gushing idiot, "In fact, I approve of the entire ensemble. Minerva, you look beautiful." 

Minerva beamed. "You're sure I'm not overdressed?" 

"No, you'll fit in perfectly," he said. "Would you prefer to Apparate, or would you like to walk? It's a pleasant day, if a bit cold." 

"Let's walk, then," she said, reaching for her cloak. 

"Here, allow me." Tom took the cloak from her and helped her into it. He held out his arm. She took it, and they left the dark pub for the sunny avenue leading to the Karkaroff Estate. 

------------------------------------- 

The pine tress loomed on either side of the narrow road. Snow covered the landscape all around them, but the path was clear and dry. Minerva, wrapped in the decadently warm cloak and in Tom's focused attention, barely felt the chill of the air about her exposed skin. 'This is wonderful,' she thought, snuggling in a bit closer to Tom as they walked. 

"So do tell me, Tom," she asked, "Why do the Karkaroff's have a Servants Feast? Are House Elves part of it?" 

"Merlin, no," he replied, "They actually have quite a few human servants. Mostly Squibs or lower class magic users they brought with them when they fled Russia. Apparently the Russian Magical Court doesn't place its trust in House Elves the way we do." 

"Does it bother you that you're classified as servant?" she asked. She saw his jaw clench and wished she could Transfigure the words out of existence. "I'm sorry. That was a terribly rude question. Please disregard it." 

He stopped walking and looked down at her. "It galls me, Minerva. I wish... I wish I could be famous and powerful. I regret you had to meet me again when I am in such a lowly position." 

Minerva took his hand. "Tom, I could care less. You could drive the Knight Bus or bus the tables at the Leaky Cauldron, and I would still be delighted to know you. I know the brilliance and grace that dwells in your heart. This may sound a little ridiculous, since I haven't seen you for fifteen years. But I've missed you... longed for you, and I don't think I ever even realized it till I saw you last night. That day in the Three Broomsticks... it's a memory that has stayed with me. I wish things had been different for us." 

"I've been a little in love with you since I first laid eyes on you, Minerva McGonagall," he whispered to her when he could speak again. 

She answered him by pressing her mouth to his in a soft kiss. Her heart was pounding in her ears as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. The sky was a bright, cutting blue over them and for a moment, Minerva's heart felt lighter than it had in several years. 

Tom wasn't sure if he could remember how to breathe when they broke off the kiss. He kissed a trail down her soft skin to the opening of her cloak. Her arms were around his neck, and he could hear her rapid intakes of breath. 

A mad impulse urged him to tear her clothes off and take her there in the middle of the road. 'No!' he gasped to himself. That kind of black thought wasn't for Minerva. He looked at her face, eyes closed and cheeks flushed. He brought his hand up to her cheek, cupping it. She opened her eyes, watching him with a heavy lidded expression that made him instantly hard. 

"We should probably go," he said softly. "I'm expected. Perhaps we could spend the rest of the day together." 

"That sounds like the perfect way to spend Christmas day," she said, stepping back slightly within the circle of his arms. She rested her hands on his chest. "To the Feast we go." 

But instead they stood there for a few moments as if frozen, looking into each others eyes. Finally they broke apart and began slowly walking arm in arm towards the gates of the estate. Tom was walking in a dream, temporarily forgetting any purpose or destiny he might have. Minerva thought she'd finally woken up from a long, dreamless sleep. 

----------------------------------------- 

One of the rituals of the Karkaroff family was the formal receiving line before the feast. They took this occasion to distribute gifts and praises which were sorely lacking throughout the rest of the year. As Tom and Minerva hurried into the dining hall of the manor, the very last servant had just left the line for his place at the table, his large family following in their peasant best. 

Two house elves scurried up to them and bore away their cloaks. Minerva stared around the extravagant hall filled with lavish furnishings and overly done Christmas decorations. Tom took Minerva's arm and guided her towards his employers and conspirators. 

Tom grimaced as he took in the sight of the family. Svetlana stood imperiously in her golden caftan studded with opulent jewels, rasing an eyebrow at him. Sergei looking as foreboding as usual in his dour black robes beside his garish wife. The children were lined up according to age, the girls all with frozen smiles, Ivan and Igor either staring into space or sneering and pinching their sisters. And to the side stood Lord Modrig himself, in the guise of elderly Uncle Fyodor. 

"Welcome, Mr. Marvolo," said Svetlana, icily, "We had thought you were perhaps not coming." 

"Countess Karkaroff, I apologize for my tardiness," said Tom, gritting his teeth and bowing. "May I please present my guest, Minerva McGonagall." 

Svetlana tightened her lips into a smile as she glanced over the younger woman. "McGonagall... No relation to the British Minister of Magical Law Enforcement, I assume." 

"He's my father," said Minerva. For some reason, her gut was telling her that she was in danger. She knew that the Russian Court was much more lax regarding the Dark Arts. The Karkaroffs could very well be a family of Dark wizards like the Blacks and the Malfoys. If they were, could Tom possibly know? 

"How interesting," said Sergei, "I've much admiration for the man. I've followed his career, you see. A strong, capable soldier, is he." 

"Thank you, Sir," said Minerva, trying to read any second meanings into the man's words. 

"And what brings you to our humble part of the world, Miss McGonagall," said Svetlana. 

Minerva launched into a brief description of her Ministry cover story. 

"We met by pure coincidence last night at Minerva's inn," said Tom, making eye contact with Modrig, who was staring with barely concealed fury. "We've taken the initiative to renew our acquaintance." He smiled at Minerva. 

"Count and Countess Karkaroff, I appreciate your hospitality," said Minerva with a bow of the head. 

Sergei said, "You are quite welcome here, Miss McGonagall." Much to his wife's consternation, Sergei meant it. Of the two, it was the Countess who actively pursued the Dark Arts. 

"Now, Mr. Marvolo, tokens of our appreciation for you fine service-" Svetlana deliberately emphasized the word, "to our family." Smiling she handed him a book shaped present wrapped in gilded foil. "I trust you'll open it at an appropriate time," she continued in an undertone. Sergei presented him with a bottle of fine cognac, and then Tom and Minerva were shown to their places at the table. 

The feast took much too long. Tom was unimpressed as ever by the lavish display of wealth and tradition the Karkaroffs presented to both ingratiate and humble their staff. He could tell that Minerva felt the same. She acted with the graciousness of one who had known both wealth and good taste from birth. 

It did give Tom and Minerva a chance to catch up. No one else at the table existed but the two of them, as they looked into each others' eyes and talked of places traveled, fates of acquaintances, and the changes between school and adulthood. They were sitting as closely together as their formal chairs would allow them, knee touching knee, hand grazing hand, laughing and growing more and more comfortable with each other. 

Only a few more courses to sit through and the required few dances at the ball afterwards and then he and Minerva could slip away. Her eyes showed hints of so much promise. 

When the well paid string quartet struck up the first notes for of a waltz, Tom's heart leapt. Minerva, who was becoming more impatient by the moment, said, "Circe no, we don't have to stay for a dance as well?" 

"Only one, I should think," said Tom leading her out to the newly cleared dance floor. "And I hope it won't be too terrible an experience." He pulled her closer in than most of the waltzing couples around them. They were silent for most of the waltz, feeling the nearness of the other, the heat and the friction that was charging higher and higher as they stepped through the dance. 

When the music stopped, Tom began to ask Minerva if she would like to go. He was interrupted by a tall youth who stammered a dance request. Tom was ready to curse him into oblivion for his cheek when he saw Modrig standing in the shadows, beckoning him ever so slightly. 

"I'm sorry," said Minerva kindly to the young man, "I don't think I'm up to another dance so soon." 

The terrified eyes of the young man confirmed Tom's suspicions. Modrig insisted upon an audience. "Minerva, would you mind one dance without me? The children's uncle seems to need my ear. He attends with great care to their education. I won't be long." 

"Oh... well, certainly," said Minerva, a bit off guard. "Do come back soon." 

"I couldn't part from you for long," said Tom, raising her hand to his lips. "Go ahead and dance if you like to pass the time. I'll be back before the music stops." 

He turned from her and stormed over to the corner. "What do you want?" he demanded flashing his wand to cast a Privacy charm. 

"I should remind you of your place, Voldemort," hissed Modrig, "but too many would see and remark on it." 

Tom refrained from rolling his eyes at the pompous Dark wizard. "What do you want, Master?" 

"What are you thinking, bringing a Ministry witch into my sanctuary so soon before the Dark Rite? Have you lost what little mind you posses or has your lust for that Ministry whore overwhelmed your common sense." 

Tom saw red behind his closed eyelids. He mustn't lose control now, not in front of Minerva, not with new powers so nearly in his grasp. "I met an old friend by coincidence. We are renewing our friendship. She is a diplomat and not interested in our activities at all." 

"She is Malcolm McGonagall's daughter. She is a spy, and you are stupid enough to be fooled by her ruse. If you are so intent on making sport with this witch, you may do so. Use her as you wish. Then torture her for any information she might have and kill her. You will bring her blood to the Dark Rite tomorrow. This is not a request, Tom Riddle," Modrig spat, purposefully using the Muggle name to put Tom in his place. "This is an order. If you do not do as I say, you will be punished." Modrig smiled, his elderly visage filled with maliciousness. 

"Yes, my lord," said Tom, with a sigh. There was no way he would hurt so much as a hair on Minerva's head. There would be some way out of this. He was resourceful, and even though Modrig meant what he said, Tom had stopped fearing Cruciatus torture quite some time ago. He returned to Minerva as the last note of music ceased. 

"I think I've had enough of my employers' forced merriment," said Tom. "Would you like to go now? I could escort you back to your room, or we could Apparate to the very few sites of interest in this forsaken place, or..." 

"I'd love to see your rooms, Tom," said Minerva with a coy smile. 

His pulse speeded up, and he felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "Very well, then, my lady." He extended his arm to her. "Your wish is my command." 


	4. 1955: Meeting of Destinies Part 2

Strange and Wondrous 

A Meeting of Destinies, Part 2 

Albania, 1955 

By Vivien 

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. JKR does. However, Minerva McTabby kindly allowed me to borrow Julius Marvolo for a cameo. 

AN: Thanks to Aspen and Sandoz for their encouragement and brave reading of first drafts. 

---------------------------------------------------- 

Tom had chosen rooms in the turret of an older section of the sprawling Karkaroff manor. The turret itself housed his main room, a library and living area filled with book shelves lining the tall walls. Interspersed between the shelves were portraits of the Marvolo family he'd collected over the years and glass enclosures housing his snakes. He had several special snakes, rare species all of them. The most special was an Indian python known in legend as Shiva's Servant. She was still a young snake and already five feet long. Tom didn't know how big she would get. He had been assured by the Menagerie Keeper in Calcutta from whom he bought her that the magical snake would grow large indeed. He had named her Nagini, and she was his favorite. 

Being a Parselmouth, Tom talked with his snakes, making sure they were happy in their enclosures and pleased with their food. In turn, they freely gave him the venom or scales he needed for rituals and potions. The effect of having so many snakes surrounding the living space could be daunting to visitors. Or so Tom imagined; he'd never actually had visitors. This was his sanctuary, protected by wards even Modrig couldn't breach. But he welcomed Minerva into it that late afternoon. 

"Ah, snakes," said Minerva, "why am I not surprised?" She walked through the door and up to the nearest enclosure as Tom hung her cloak on the peg next to the heavy door. Inside was a tiny Coral Spitting Asp. It hissed excitedly even though Tom had told all the snakes that he was expecting company who would not understand them. "Oh, this one is lovely, Tom." She looked into the next enclosure. Her eyes widened, and she turned to him. "An Irish adder? I thought they were extinct." 

"A few of the species were rescued during the scouring of Ireland. They've been quietly cultivated on the Continent ever since, but their numbers are still small." 

She looked all around the room, and then focused in on the books on the shelf before her. "You've so many books. DeHavilland's Grimoire... Powerful Uses of Potent Poisons... Potencies of the Unicorn... I'm glad I'm not here on official Ministry business." She said this jokingly, but she stopped reading the titles before her. Ignorance was bliss, and she wanted to feel blissful for a change. 

"I was always an eclectic reader, Minerva," he said. "You should remember that." He'd concealed any of the seriously prohibited books in his library the night before. "In Albania, it's sometimes good to know what an enemy might have in store for you." 

Minerva nodded her head. That did make sense - Albania could definitely be a dangerous place. 

"Would you care to sit down?" Tom asked, indicating the sofa before the hearth. "We could have sip of my Christmas present." 

"That would be lovely," said Minerva. She walked to the sofa and settled down upon it. He came to sit beside her, conjuring two glasses as he walked. While he poured the cognac, he shifted a bit closer towards her that their bodies touched. A shiver shot through Minerva, giving her goose bumps even as the warmth of the fire enveloped her. She felt wetness between her legs, and tension soiling inside her body. She wondered if she should kiss him now or wait. Again she recognized the ghost of warning flitting through her brain. Did she really know this man anymore? Even after the catching up of the afternoon, so many years had passed, and though they'd been close at one time... 

He gazed into her eyes as he handed her the glass of cognac, and his fingers grazed hers. The jolt of electricity between them when they touched, the knowing she felt when she looked into his eyes left her without doubt. This was right. This was destined. And she was tired of playing by the rules. She kissed him, melting into his soft lips, tasting the hint of the heady cognac he'd just drunk. 

"Minerva," Tom murmured. He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent of heather and fresh air and arousal. 

"Tom, is this too fast? I mean, am I..." 

"I've waited years for you, my darling. But if it's too fast for you..." 

Setting the glass down, she touched her wand and whispered "Mutatio." Her green velvet gown shimmered and changed into a black negligee. She slid over to straddle his lap and claimed his mouth with hers. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him, feeling the heat where his hardness met her softness. 

When the kiss broke, she looked at him with half-lidded eyes, and said, "Mmmm, I think we're moving at just the right pace." 

They stayed on the couch for a time, exploring each other with hands and mouths, whispering words of passion and thrilling to the tension mounting in their hearts and bodies. Finally, Minerva commanded, "Bedroom. Now." 

They managed to part long enough to stand up, but Tom brought her immediately back into the circle of his arms. "Wingardium Leviosa," he said, and she felt his wand hand swish and flick behind her back. They rose into the air, and Tom guided them towards a large portrait of a handsome Marvolo named Julius. Julius winked at them and said, "Well done, old boy." 

"Power and glory," Tom said quickly, and the painting moved aside to reveal his bedchamber. 

Wand out, Minerva quickly muttered a Contraception charm as she found her footing again. As one they moved towards the bed. Minerva shifted them both down onto the silken bedcovers, lying down on her back and pulling him to her. Tom slipped his hands under her gown to caress her bare skin, and she removed the obstacle of fabric by shimmying out of it. She could have used her wand to undress him, but she rather liked the feel of his clothing against her naked skin. Tossing her wand aside, she closed her eyes and exulted in the touch of his hands. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him close as he planted kisses down her neck and then encircled her nipples one at a time with his tongue. 

Tom could barely process the barrage of sensations he was experiencing. He'd had many lovers, mostly during Dark Revels or in brothels, but he'd never before known this intensity of passion. Hearing her whimpers and gasps made him tremble. He was proficient in numerous sex charms and hexes, but he couldn't remember even one. Didn't really need them at this moment. She possessed a wandless magic that made him agonizingly hard with desire and anticipation. He shrugged off his robes without moving his mouth from her breast and threw his wand onto the night stand where hers had landed. 

Skin to skin now, with Minerva's hands entwining through his hair, he kissed and licked his way down her body, coming to rest between her thighs. He darted his tongue out, making swirling patterns on her inner thigh. Then he lightly bit down, sucking on the tender flesh. She gasped, "Gods, yes..." and he repeated the action on her other thigh. Slowly and gently he began licking her delicate, sea shell pink folds, luxuriating in her scent and taste. His tongue gradually increased pressure and pace, teasing moans from her. Finally Minerva was thrashing about under his mouth with the need of her release. As she closed her eyes and came, she called out his name. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled himself back up so they were face to face. He kissed her softly, a bit tentatively, and she opened her mouth to him. 

Tom rolled her over onto her side, still locked in the kiss. When his mouth lifted from hers, she opened her eyes and looked directly into his. They were dark, so dark, so full of need. 

"I want you so, Minerva," he said. 

"Then take me," she replied, her hand finding his cock. She slowly guided him inside her. Tom let out a sigh of relief and pleasure as he sank into her slick heat. He paused a moment, eyes closed, settling into her, and then he rolled over on his back, bringing her with him. He began rocking back and forth, moving inside her, glorying in the sensation. For the first time in his life, he didn't care about power or destiny or vengeance. He only cared about the woman in his arms. 

Minerva loved being on top during sex, loved the feeling of control it gave her. For Tom to choose this position for her made her even more excited. He knew her so well without even trying. None of her other lovers had made her feel this known, this special. His hands were roaming over her body, tormenting every sensitive place. She leaned back, feeling him push deeper inside of her. He moaned as she thrust back towards him. She could feel the tingle of her next orgasm begin to build. She began grinding into him, setting her own pace to release the incredible tightness welling up inside her. She rocked forward again, bending down to kiss him, and as she did, she took his wrists and pinned them to the pillow beside his head. She smiled at him, a devilish, hedonistic smile, and the waves of the orgasm overtook her. 

Tom stayed still under Minerva, his wrists held tightly by her shaking hands. She had collapsed on top of him, breathless and trembling. That he could make her feel this way astonished him and made his cock throb deep within in her. Her hands released him, and he wrapped his arms around her, rocking them back over to lie face to face. He stroked her cheek and ran his fingers through her hair, damp now with perspiration. 

"You're a goddess, Minerva. I worship you. I always have." He kissed her softly. "I love you." 

"I love you, too," Minerva whispered without thinking, knowing in her heart that it was true. His eyes grew wider, softer, and he brought her hand up to his lips, kissing the palm. Greedily Minerva moved her hand out of the way and sought his lips with her own. She nudged him over, sliding her body under his. 

He increased the intensity of his thrusting, wallowing within her heat. Propping himself up on his elbows, he cradled her head in his hands, bringing the entire lengths of their bodies as closely together as possible. Her eyes were closed, and she was biting her lip as her head thrashed from one side to the other. Her legs gripped around the base of his back, keeping him deep inside her. He was so close, but he didn't want this to end. 

Minerva writhed underneath him, her nails scratching down his back as the pressure once again built up to a frenzied pace. Had she ever come this often, so closely together without magic? She didn't think so. His voice alone could make her tingle, much less the perfect way his cock brushed her clit with each stroke. 

"Come for me, Minerva, come for me," he whispered in her ear before nipping at her neck. Minerva laughed and decided to take back a little control. She spread her legs wide and felt Tom freeze inside her, gasping as he penetrated her even deeper. He slowly raised his face to hers, and now the devilish grin was his. She felt his hand creep between her legs even as he began thrusting again, harder and faster. His fingers danced around her clit, and she was taken over the edge almost immediately. To her astonishment, the orgasm didn't fade, but kept echoing through her. 

"Harder... There... Keep, keep...Yes!" she screamed as another wave smashed into her. Tom came a split second after her, and she was barely cognizant of the "Love you..." that issued forth as he spasmed into her. They both collapsed together in a panting, quivering heap. 

"You're mine," she purred contentedly in his ear. "All mine, forever." 

"I am yours, Minerva," he replied, brushing her hair from her face. "You'll never be rid of me." He smiled at her, knowing he sounded like a fool, and not caring. 

She snuggled in closer to him. "Tom, I've a question to ask you. It's rather serious, I fear, and you must be honest with me." 

"What?" He tried to sound calm but his insides turned to ice water. What could she want to know? 

"Were you using magic just then?" 

"No," he said, worriedly. 

She laughed. "Gods, then can you imagine what it'll be like when do use our wands? Sweet Circe, Tom, this was... For once I'm speechless. Was it what you'd imagined?" 

Tom kissed her. "I'm an imaginative person, Minerva, but I can honestly say that making love to you was more wonderful than anything I'd dreamed of." 

"Hmm, honesty from a Slytherin. Will wonders never cease?" They both laughed, secrets and suspicions forgotten and destinies cast aside. They talked together for some time about everything and nothing at all till finally they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the happiness of each other's presence. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

In the middle of the night, Tom awoke with a start. His body was intensely itchy all over, like there were insects crawling under his skin. "Gods," he whispered, "forgot the ritual." Every night he Invited Darkness into him with rituals from a Parselmouth Grimoire he'd found during his travels in India. It was unique, and he'd obtained it through less than honorable means. With the evening's events, his normal routine had totally slipped his mind, and he found he could never go long anymore without performing the rituals. He carefully moved Minerva's arm from his chest. For a moment he ignored the crawling under his skin to gaze at her sleeping form enshrined in moonlight from the high window. 

'Merlin's teeth, but she's beautiful,' thought Tom. 'Did this night really happen?' The passion between them had been unexpected and furious and were it not for the persistence of his need, he would have stayed there forever just admiring her. However he needed the Darkness, so he cautiously slipped out of bed and grabbed his wand and a robe. Slipping on the robe as he padded to the portrait opening, his heart began pounding with a different kind of anticipation. 

He levitated from the bedroom down to the main room. The floor under his bare feet was cold, but he didn't notice as he walked to a bookcase. With a flick of his wand, the bookcase turned silently around until his Dark Altar moved into place. It was a grisly thing, and Tom had worked very hard to make it perfect. The ebony wood of the altar shone with polish, its carvings of bones and images of agony standing out it stark relief. The skull of his first sacrificial victim, illegal potion ingredients, an urn filled with the bones of a child, vials of blood and venom, and other gruesome paraphernalia of the Dark Arts were displayed with care under hanging rows of jewel handled knives. 

He reached for the chained Grimoire he kept under glass in the middle of the altar, but then decided against anything elaborate. He didn't want Minerva to wake up and find him here. He was fairly certain that she was not the simple bureaucrat she claimed to be. His orders were to kill her no matter what, but he had never been one for taking orders. She would not die at his hand, nor at anyone else's. But if she caught him, that would make things difficult. No, he would do a quick Ritual of the Knife. That would serve. 

Picking a dagger at random, he began murmuring the chant for the ritual. He pricked his thumb and let the blood drip onto the skull. When he finished the incantation, he felt the air turn electric. He was barely aware of his snakes hissing in the background as the building field of energy woke them. His hair was standing on end, goose flesh prickling over his body, as red fumes began to rise from the skull like unholy steam. The fumes spiraled up and entered into his body through the puncture wound. The Darkness took him, burrowing into every cell of his body. 

------------------------------------------------- 

"Lord Voldemort....," came a hiss from behind him. "My master..." 

Tom had fallen to his knees in the rapture that overtook him during Dark ritual. "What, Nagini," he hissed back to his snake. 

"Who is the woman, Master? She is not One Who Walks In Darkness. Why is she here? Are you going to kill her? Am I going to feed?" The snake had risen up, her body climbing the glass of her enclosure. 

"Be quiet, Nagini," he hissed fiercely. "It's none of your business." 

The snake wavered for a moment, and then with a drawn out "ssssssss" coiled herself into a corner. 

Tom heard a rustling from the bedroom above. He shakily stood up and waved his wand to return the Altar to its hiding place. The Dark magic was coursing through him, but he felt emptier than usual. The spells from the Grimoire had always made him feel complete and more powerful. He realized with a bit of a shock that what he had shared with Minerva had been more intense than his Dark rituals. He was so used to being alone and hell bent on his destiny. To have another person make him feel more complete than his magic was startling. Confused, he floated back up to the bedroom, where his goddess, his Minerva, waited for him. 

------------------------------------------------- 

Minerva awoke feeling Tom's absence. His side of the bed was empty, but not cold. She looked around Tom's bedchamber for the first time. It was rather spare compared to his main room. Nothing on the walls, no windows except for one high, narrow one. There was a wardrobe and a comfortable looking armchair beside the fireplace. She smiled when she saw another small bookshelf tucked into the wall by the chair. Beside the four poster bed was the night table with her wand and a small picture frame. She looked closely at the photograph and realized it was Muggle picture. A woman with dark, bobbed hair stared from the frame unmoving. She wore a wedding veil, and it was apparent that someone else in the picture had been cut out. 'This must be his mother,' she thought. 

Strange hissing sounds came from the room below. Minerva set the picture frame down. It sounded almost as if the hissing were a conversation. The doubt that had been reduced to a niggling in her brain flared again. Tom in school had always been upstanding on the outside, but she had perceived cracks in his demeanor, little flashes of something deeper and darker. Truth be told, it was something that fascinated her though she would never admit it. The Karkaroffs had a reputation, and he did work for them. And after all, she was here on a serious mission in the battle against the Dark... 

Then she was struck by a startling realization. If Tom was dabbling in the Dark Arts, she didn't really care. Hadn't she done her fair share of curses, including the Imperius Curse and several killing hexes which, if not Unforgivable, were not exactly aboveboard either? Even if what she'd done had been in self defense and sanctioned through the Ministry, it didn't matter. Using the Dark Arts didn't necessarily make you evil. It wasn't like he was the rising Dark power the Seer foretold. 

She'd found him again, and he made her happier than she could remember being. She would worry with his involvement with the Dark Arts if and when the time came. Minerva had no idea what the morning would bring and for once in her adult life, she didn't care 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Tom walking back into the bedroom. He looked flushed, as if he'd been exposed to a great source of heat. 

"What was that hissing, Tom?" she asked. 

Tom's eyes widened for an instant before his face smoothed into a casual expression. "Oh, the snakes sometimes become excited when I wake in the night. I think they always hope for an extra meal. Sorry they woke you." He sat down beside her and caressed her face gently. "Minerva, you look like a statue carved from stone with the moonlight shining on you. A statue of a goddess. My goddess." He whispered the last, enthralled by her eyes, her lips, her soft skin. 

She kissed his hand. "I'm so fortunate I found you here in the least likely of places." 

He kissed her then, softly bringing his lips to hers, barely touching her as he felt the ardor between them begin to escalate. She pushed his robe off of his shoulders, and he shrugged it off the rest of the way as their kiss deepened. 

Minerva lay back down on her side, and Tom scooped his right arm underneath her, pulling her to him, twining his fingers through her hair. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, wanting him closer to her. His erection was almost painful as it pressed into her soft belly, and a thought flickered through his mind. 'I'm tainted by the Dark ritual, I shouldn't touch her, I shouldn't dirty her with it.' But then he slid his hand over the curve of her body to her hip, and she moaned softly with desire and need. All rational thought left him, and he was lost in her, as lost as he had ever been in the most ecstatic Dark Rite. 

------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The morning sunlight shone down upon the two lovers tangled in a heap atop the covers of the bed, panting and laughing. Sex during levitation was intensely pleasurable, but it also demanded concentration. Unfortunately, neither Tom nor Minerva had been able to focus enough to stay in midair upon climax, and they'd fallen rather hard to the bed below. 

"Ow, I think I pulled a muscle," Minerva gasped, laughing. She untangled her legs from his. 

Tom rolled over flat on his back, arms splayed out. "I'll kiss it better once I can move again. Next time we try that, we don't go so far up. But it was fantastic, bruises and all." 

Minerva leaned up on one elbow, turning to him. She loved the way he smiled and laughed, how smooth his skin was over the hard muscles. His arm scooped her closer to him, and she put her head on his shoulder. 

"When do you have to leave, darling?" Tom asked. 

'Probably an hour ago,' thought Minerva. Thank goodness she'd sent in the bloody report already. The Albanian Ministry would have to do without her today. "Um, probably around three or so. I don't think they need me for the entire summit. I'll go for my part and my part only." She had made her decision- she was quitting the Ministry effective almost immediately. She might as well skip one last hideously boring meeting. She would complete her mission tonight, and that would be it. "I'm not sure when I'll be done though. It might not be till late this evening." She hated lying to him. 

"That's all right," he said, lazily stroking her arm, "I have a previous commitment tonight, as well. Owl me as soon as you get done. I'll wait up for you." 

"Well, the thing is, I might have to Apparate back to London to give my report. Sometimes my orders are changed at the last minute. Can we plan on meeting in the morning?" 

"That's fine. But if you change your mind, let me know. I won't be able to stand being away from you for long." 

"Do you like your job? I mean, really like it?" she said suddenly. 

"No, not really. As a matter of fact, I loathe it. Why do you ask?" 

She shifted back a bit so as to better see his face. "I despise mine. I mean, truly despise it. Meeting you again, realizing how I feel about you... It's almost as if I've woken up from years of sleep. I feel like I have a chance at new start. Tom, this might sound daft, but let's run away together. I'm quitting the Ministry - I'd decided that even before I saw you at the Inn. If I go back to England, I'll have to face my father and everyone else I've let down. Unless, I mean, unless I'm moving too fast." 

Tom kissed her, his heart leaping with joy. "I think we're moving at just the right pace. How about Alexandria? I've always fancied going there. Or maybe Istanbul" Modrig would not release him from his service easily, and if he left without his consent, he and Minerva both would be in danger. And what of his destiny, his promises over the years to the memory of his dead mother... He couldn't lie to Minerva anymore. She would have to know what she was getting into with him. 

"Or Rome," said Minerva, "I can speak Italian. Or maybe Algiers." 

Tom almost told her everything then. But her excitement about their new life together was infectious. They began making plans of all the things they'd see and do together, and Tom was convinced that everything would be perfect. It was time he made his own way instead of relying on the tutelage of others. He would figure out a way to escape Modrig, tell Minerva the truth, and be with her forever. He was Lord Voldemort, and he could do anything. 

------------------------------------------------------------ 

"Finite Incantatem," Minerva said with a sigh, pointing her wand at the rumpled black negligee. It transformed back into the navy blue work robe she'd first transfigured Christmas morning. She left it laid out on the bed, being much more comfortable in a borrowed dressing gown of Tom's. 

"My, how bureaucratic, dear," said Tom, arching his eyebrow at the functional garment. Minerva responded by throwing a pillow at him. He waved it away with his wand. "Not that I want you to go, Minerva, but it's almost three." 

Minerva got out of bed and stretched. They hadn't left the bed much that whole day, and Minerva didn't want to leave it at all. Not yet, anyway. She walked to stand in the shaft of sunlight from the bedchamber window. 

"Do you have an owl? Or could you get one for me?" 

Tom walked over to her, stunned for the umpteenth time since he'd met her again by just how beautiful she was. "I could call for one. Why?" 

"I'm thinking of telling the Ministry to sod off at this very moment instead of finishing out my duties. They've had enough of my time and energy. Besides," she said reaching for his wandless hand, "I don't want to leave." She brought his hand to rest on her breast. 

"As much as I would like you to stay," Tom said, slowly caressing her nipples one at a time, "would you really feel right doing that?" 

She moved his hands to step in closer to him, resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. "No, and I will go. I just like the idea of being defiant sometimes." 

He kissed the top of her head and waved his wand towards Minerva's work robe. The robe flew to his hand. "Here you are, my sweet. I think you'll be happier fulfilling your responsibilities, dreadful though they are. You are a Gryffindor, after all, even if you've been extremely naughty lately." 

"Mmmm, and you would know about being naughty, wouldn't you, you Slytherin," she said, letting the dressing gown pool to the floor. She slipped her robe over her head. "It's hard to concentrate on dressing when you're standing there naked, by the way." 

"What about underwear?" asked Tom in a low voice, as he started buttoning up the front of the dress. 

"I'll conjure some later," said Minerva, the pressure from his fingers making her skin prickle hot and cold with desire. She smoothed her hands down his chest and further down. She stroked up and down the length of his hard cock, smiling. 

Tom loved watching the lust wash over her. Her hands on his flesh could enslave him. He leaned over to whisper kiss her earlobe. "You should go, Minerva, or you'll be late." 

"And you should fling me up against the wall and fuck me senseless," she growled. In a flash of silver light, she was thrown back to the stone wall, held in place by his spell. In another instant, his arms were around her like bands of steel, and the magic released her. She moaned and wrapped her legs tightly around him and then he was inside her, thrusting hard and fast, just how she wanted. 

"Yes, Tom, more, oh gods, so good," she shouted. The orgasm building up was going to be huge. She closed her eyes and focused on the feel of him inside her, the way he fit to her, the pleasing scent of his sweat, and his eyes, his dark eyes that made her weak whenever she looked into them. 

"I love being inside you," he said, kissing her neck. He sensed how she was already trembling in his arms and knew that the pleasure of release for both of them would be fierce. "You're so beautiful, Minerva. You're so mine." 

She pulled his head to hers, kissing him so they were locked together as tightly as could be. The orgasm slammed into her, overwhelming her senses. She screamed into his kiss, and then her head fell back, her body relaxing in his arms as he cried out and came. Slowly their bodies slipped apart, both of them panting and trembling. Minerva's feet found the floor, as she leaned back against the wall, sheltered in Tom's arms. 

"I love you, Tom," she said when she could find her voice again. "I never want to be apart from you again." 

"My Minerva," he said, stroking her hair, "I waited so long for you." 

"I have to go." 

He kissed her forehead. "Go, my sweet. Owl me as soon as you get back. I might be late myself, but remember that tomorrow we start over. We'll be together from now on. Accio cloak." Minerva's cloak flapped in through the open portrait hole and into his hands. 

He kissed her one more time, long and lingering as he wrapped the cloak around her. Minerva Summoned her wand, and Tom moved away from her ever so slightly so she'd have room to Disapparate. When she disappeared, he reached for the space where she'd been standing. He missed her already. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

When Minerva opened her eyes again, she was in her dank room at the Inn. Her prior enchantments had ended and the room looked like it usually did - bleak and oppressive. She felt the loss of Tom immediately and would have Apparated back to him if she hadn't seen the two Ministry owls waiting impatiently for her. 

Sighing, she went to them and took their messages. Neither flew off, which meant an answer was required to each. She scanned through the first which berated her for not attending the summit. Then she read the second, a briefing on tonight's events complete with speculated locations for the Dark Rite. 

She sat down at the rickety desk and began to write her resignation letter, rejoicing with every word she set down to parchment. 


	5. 1955: Meeting of Destinies: Part 3

Strange and Wondrous, 1955 Part Three 

By Vivien 

Disclaimers: I do not own these characters; J.K. Rowling does. 

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Focus. Control. Concentration. These were the required elements for an Animagus transformation. Minerva McGonagall was sitting on the bed of her room in the Laughing Dragon Inn, breathing deeply, trying to reach a still, quiet place within herself. She found herself anything but still and quiet. Her thoughts kept flickering to Tom's face, Tom's body, Tom's hands on her skin. This time tomorrow they would be gone, together, fleeing lives that had become frustrating and stagnant. She smiled and breathed in. The thought of her new found love and happiness brought the calm she needed. With the light fading fast, dappling the room with shadows, Minerva changed into her cat form. 

She loved being an Animagus, loved her animal incarnation. When she was a cat, she was truly a feline, with the thoughts and urges of the animal. She was still herself, her conscious thoughts floating above the cat brain, mingling with the more primitive urges to scratch claws on tree trunks or attack the rustling whispers of creatures in the bushes. Through training as an Unspeakable agent, she'd been taught to control her higher thoughts, to rule the cat. Control had always been such a mainstay of Minerva's life. Control, rigidity, following the rules... She was happy to be done with all of that. 

As Minerva settled into her second skin, she felt that something was not quite right within her. Something tangible, but not, she intuited, dangerous. Animagi were known for detecting minuscule bodily changes that indicated illness during transformations, since they were essentially rearranging themselves molecule by molecule. Minerva wasn't sure what the problem was, but she didn't feel it was anything to concern her at this moment. She'd puzzle it out when she changed back after this last mission as a miserable employee of the Ministry of Magic. Then she would be gone, gone with the man she'd loved for years without realizing. 

Slipping out of the open window, Minerva crept through the shadows surrounding the Inn and made her way into the dark forest, ears alert for the sound of voices. 

------------------------------------------------------- 

There were preparations Tom needed to make before the sun went down, but he found that all he could do was grin like a madman and think of Minerva. He was readying for their departure at least, reducing his books into minuscule sizes, the better to be placed in a single trunk to levitate away. His snakes he would reduce last; he didn't want them to be distressed before it was necessary. He found himself humming as he did his tasks, stopping every few moments to remember Minerva's voice first whispering she loved him, or her body wrapped around his in the height of passion. Love, true tangible love, was such a foreign emotion for him; it was a bit unsettling the lengths to which he would now go to protect her, to cherish her forever. He was ready to take her away, to find a happily ever after he'd never known could exist. 

'But it can't be this easy, can it? There's so much she doesn't know. I've waited for her so long, if I were to lose her now...' He pushed the troubling thoughts from his head. Everything would be fine, and by this time tomorrow, they would be in Alexandria or Algiers or somewhere else exotic and new. 

The sun was setting, and he'd done nothing for the evening's ritual. He had to find blood to "prove" he'd killed Minerva as per Modrig's order's. He wished he could simply make a quick Apparation to a Muggle dockside to snuff out the life of a random thug. One who resembled his father, hopefully - he never got tired of reliving that kill. But he needed magical blood; Modrig would immediately know the difference. He also needed to undergo his own ritual to prepare and protect himself, to invite more of the Darkness inside himself to make the ritual that much more powerful for him. He placed the last of the palm sized books into the trunk in front of him. He needed to hurry. 

He went to his altar and retrieved a glass urn from within a hidden drawer. Dark red liquid sloshed inside of it as he set it before him. This was the blood of a Tibetan wizard he had killed in a mostly fair duel some years ago. It was potent blood, for the wizard had been old and powerful. But not powerful enough, Tom mused with a smile. He had preserved the blood for his more arcane and demanding rituals, meting it out drop by drop. He would use all of it tonight to protect Minerva. 

Setting the blood to the side of the altar, he opened the Parselmouth Grimoire to a ritual he hadn't attempted before. It called the snake spirits above and below to stand between you and danger, in exchange for blood and devotion. Tom had both to spare, but even as he slashed his palm with a dagger to begin his offering, his thoughts were of Minerva. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

Minerva slunk through the underbrush of the forest, carefully placing her paws in the quietest places. It was full dark, and she heard the unmistakable buzz of human voices in the distance. She headed for the spot, knowing in her Minerva mind that the location matched with the Ministry information she'd been given. 

Soon she began to perceive a change in the light. A bright blue glow was emanating from a clearing a few yards away. She headed towards the light, listening to the voices as they came more into focus. Silently leaping into a tree standing before a circular clearing, Minerva settled down and watched and waited. 

People were drifting into the clearing. People whose faces were obscured by low, black hoods. Minerva crouched down close to the bark of the tree, shielding her higher thoughts from any Legilimens who would be able to detect them. Sour smells reached her cat nose, smells of poisons and Dark power. She memorized the sights before her, of the robed figures forming a circle, of blue light eerily pouring into the darkness of the forest. 

Finally one large shape entered the middle of the circle, cutting through swirling blue mist. "Bow down before your Lord Modrig," he said in deep, accented English. The figures standing in the circle knelt down. "You come to this place this glorious night to partake of my power, to complete the Dark Rites we have begun in our fellowship. Voldemort, the blood gift." 

A tall figure stepped before Modrig, kneeled, and handed him a glass urn glowing red. "My master, the blood of the Ministry spy, as you commanded." The man bowed low before Modrig. 

In the tree, Minerva froze, her four sets of claws digging into the rough bark of the tree. That was Tom's voice. 'But perhaps it wasn't,' she thought quickly. She prayed to any god that would listen that it wasn't. 

Modrig took the urn and lifted the lid, inhaling the fragrance of the blood. "Ho, quite powerful. A fitting gift for our ritual. If only it was truly the witch's blood, you lying traitor." He smiled maliciously and took out his wand, setting the urn on a dais he conjured. The man before him remained kneeling, absolutely still. "Well, well, Voldemort, isn't this an interesting situation we find ourselves in. You have disobeyed a direct order and compromised our evening of triumph. Not wise, boy, not wise." 

"I don't know what you mean, my lord," said the man calmly. 

Modrig savagely backhanded the man. He wavered under the force of the blow, but came back to his upright position. 

"The witch was seen in her room at the Inn this afternoon, you idiot," Modrig snarled. "She sent an Owl, no doubt carrying damning evidence of your activities. You have betrayed your future for pleasure with the enemy. You will be severely punished, but not enough to kill you. Not yet. We'll capture your witch and stage a Dark Revel with her as our honored guest. You will watch every moment of her degradation and torture, and then you will watch her die. Then you will be our honored guest, and you will beg us for death. I have waited for this moment for years, Riddle. Crucio!" 

Minerva's eyes were wide and her breath shallow. She felt as if she'd been sharply kicked in the ribs. It was Tom. Even if Modrig hadn't named him, she could see his face now where the hood had fallen away. He was a Dark wizard, and he'd been ordered to kill her. And yet, he hadn't. As she watched him writhe on the ground, suffering from the Cruciatus curse, she caught herself slipping back into human form just in time to focus back into animal shape again. She tried to breathe deeply, to center herself, but found that she could not. 

------------------------------------------------------- 

Tom knelt before Modrig, knowing that his plan had failed but not giving up just yet. His mind was racing with ideas, ways to escape, ways to save Minerva from a fate much worse than death. He could try cursing Modrig now while the bloated toad blathered on, but he'd be pitifully outnumbered by the rest of the assemblage. Cruciatus torture was bad, but he could bear it. He'd find a way to protect her. Tom saw Modrig's wand rise up, ready to cast. He took a deep breath and retreated within himself. 

The blast hit him, strafing his nervous system with flares of fiery, spiking pain, but he'd already retreated within his memory, a form of magic and concentration he'd taught himself over the years. The pain was there - there was no way to ever escape it - but he could hide part of himself, as it were, in a tiny corner of his consciousness to deflect the worst of it. It was here, huddled within himself, hearing his own screams while trying to focus on Minerva's face, the feel of her skin, the overpowering emotions he assigned to her and her alone, that a change began. 

It started as a vibration of current running up and down his spine, pushing against the pain slicing through his body. The vibration grew stronger, and from behind his closed eyelids, he saw red, snakelike forms moving against the black. He opened his eyes, and he still saw them. The red tendrils writhed through the air and around his body, and a rush of power swept into him. He stood, still under the effects of Cruciatus, but nearly oblivious to the pain. 

Modrig cast the Cruciatus again, his eyes wide. Tom laughed. He saw through a veil of red now, and power bubbled up inside of him, rolling through his brain. He raised his wand to parry the curse, and with a flick of the wrist the Cruciatus rebound upon Modrig. Now the student loomed over the cringing form of the master. 

The others within the circle were whispering amongst themselves, unsure as to what to do. They waited, transfixed by the palpable power throbbing throughout the clearing. 

"Ah, Modrig, I have been waiting years for this," said Tom. "I could kill you slowly and greatly enjoy it, but truly, I have wasted too much of my precious time in your wretched company already. Avada Kedavra!" With a flash of green light, Modrig collapsed lifeless to the ground. 

Tom was giddy, drunk on the Dark power which shone red from his eyes. The red tendrils had mostly burrowed into his flesh by now. A few small wisps lingered about him, swirling around his body. He wasn't sure what had caused this transformation, but it was glorious. He triumphantly turned to face the group in the clearing. 

"Bow down to your Lord Voldemort," he commanded. 

Half the group went down to their knees immediately. The other half Disapparated. Only one person remained standing. "How dare you?" screeched Svetlana Karkaroff. "You killed the most powerful Dark wizard left in Europe, you Half-blood bastard." 

"No, I didn't, my dear Svetlana," said Tom. "The most powerful Dark wizard in Europe stands before you. If you know what's best for you, you'd bow down before me as well." 

Svetlana spat on the ground. "I curse you, Tom Marvolo. I will take care of your Ministry whore myself." She Disapparated, and Tom reflected upon how nice it would be to torture her before he killed her. Minerva would be safe enough at her summit meeting. Even if she were back by now, the Minerva he remembered from Dueling Club would make short work of Svetlana.. Svetlana fancied herself a menace, but in reality she was pathetic. He would deal with her later. 

He looked upon the figures bowed before him. "I will continue the ritual," he said. "You will be my followers. I will mark you as my own, even though I might not see you again after this night for some time. Never doubt, though, that your loyalty belongs to Lord Voldemort" 

"Yes, Lord Voldemort," spoke a dozen voices. Tom retrieved the book of ritual from Modrig's cloak pocket and began. The Dark ecstasy remained, meshing with the love for Minerva that had kept him walking on air with no magic at all. She would be his Dark queen, and together they would rule the world. He began the ritual, his face glowing with joy. This last twenty-four hours had brought him everything he had ever desired. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Minerva couldn't move for quite some time. She huddled in the crook of the tree, watching what was unfolding below her, but not quite comprehending what she saw. As Tom began the ritual, she knew she couldn't stay and watch anymore. She'd completed her mission - she'd seen the new Dark power rise. How could he be the man she'd always wanted and be this as well? Why hadn't he told her? Had this all been an act to deceive her? At this thought, her stomach clenched as if she'd been punched. 

She stumbled out of the tree, barely able to concentrate enough to retain cat form. She had to get out of the country before any of Modrig's followers found her. Before Tom found her. Her room at the Inn was warded, so she should be safe within it. She would Apparate straight home to McGonagall Castle. Once she was far enough away from the clearing, she began running, mindless of the noise her four feet made. 

Soon she was slipping back into her dark room at the Inn. She took a deep breath and upon exhaling she stood up into her human form. She had vaguely remembered to concentrate on the niggling sense of something being awry within her. After a confused moment, her face went white. 

"No, it can't be," she whispered to the darkness. "It can't be, it mustn't." 

She sat down hard on the bed. Holding her wand with a shaking hand, she waved it over her lower abdomen and whispered. Then she pointed to an empty wall. "Revelare," she commanded. 

On the wall, glowing streaks of magic from her wand formed the word "yes". She stared at the word until it faded slowly away. Then she cast the Pregnancy Revelation spell again. The same glowing yes appeared on the wall. Minerva McGonagall was with child. She put her hands over her eyes and tried to cry, but she was in too much shock to do more than gasp for air. She was pregnant, she was going to have a baby - Tom's baby. A Dark wizard's child. What the hell was she going to do? It didn't matter that she'd resigned from the Ministry. Even if she ended the pregnancy, her superiors would know she'd consorted with the enemy. Her mind would be an open book, no matter how she tried to hide her thoughts. She moaned in despair and huddled on her side, curled up and rocking herself as she keened. 

She dropped her hands from her face to clutch at the bedspread, and it was then she noticed a small, nondescript owl perched on the wardrobe. It wasn't a Ministry owl, of that she was certain. "Come," she said, her voice sounding foreign to her ears. The owl fluttered down to the bed and stuck out a leg. She took the roll of parchment, but the bird didn't fly off. She read the letter. 

_Minerva, I miss you already, and you've not been gone more than a few hours. I will be waiting to hear from you the moment you return. Please send back the owl, my love, and tell me when to expect you. I am ready to begin my life anew with you by my side. _

_Yours forever, _

_Tom _

He must have sent the letter right after she'd left the room. She wanted to rip the letter into shreds. She wanted to hex Tom into oblivion. She wanted to fall into his arms and ask him, why, why, why, and be covered with his kisses till she didn't have to think anymore. Now the tears came. She kicked the mattress and pummeled the pillows for the unfairness of it all. 

After several minutes of giving herself over to the rage and sorrow, Minerva slowly sat up. She could feel the rigid discipline that had maintained her throughout a career of spying settle back into place. Walking to the desk, she penned a quick response, tied it to the owl's leg, and sent it back to its master. She reduced her trunk to pocket size. Slipping it into her cloak's pocket, she cast a Camouflage Charm on her robes. Her lips pursed together in thin line, she Apparated to the place she'd arranged to meet her lover and enemy. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Once the ritual had been completed, his new followers had drifted away into the darkness to await his next call. Tom was exhausted. The power that had rushed through him had slowly dissipated, leaving him feeling drained. He knew that while the Darkness was part of him, he still had to learn how to sustain and control it. . That would require more time and more ritual, but it would be done. If he were confronted by his enemies now, he'd be hard pressed to fight them off. Luckily, he'd always been good at bluffing. Besides, after the power he'd displayed tonight, he didn't think he'd have problems. He leaned against a tree, smiling with his eyes closed, remembering the rush of power. What a night this had been... 

He heard the barely discernible rustle of wings enter the clearing and looked up. His owl was returning to him, message attached to its leg. 

"Minerva," he breathed, beaming. He took the roll of parchment, and the owl remained perched on the low branch it had landed upon, waiting if it was needed further. 

_Tom - meet me by the gnarled, lichen covered oak tree in the forest behind the Inn. M_

It was time to meet his beloved. He began rehearsing in his head what he would say to her, how he would explain logically and lovingly who he really was. He didn't give much thought to why she ha picked such a place to meet. He walked instead of Apparating to give himself a little more time to work his words out. 

She must know who he was, who he could be. He worried she would resist the idea of a love affair with a Dark wizard, but he remembered the Imperio experiments of her seventh year. There was Darkness inside Minerva McGonagall, even if she didn't want there to be. He would nurture her Darkness, show her what powers she could access, what knowledge she could gain. That would be what would reel her in, he decided. He would win her over. There was no doubt in his mind. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Minerva waited behind the tree, listening for the pop of an Apparation or the rustle of walking feet. She replayed the night's events over in her head, not wanting to believe how she'd seen Tom, how she'd heard the vicious edge to his voice which had always been so gentle towards her. Maybe this wasn't what it seemed. Maybe he was even working for some other European ministry as she was. Maybe he was just... 

Minerva grimaced. 'Maybe he's always been immersed in the Dart Arts, even since school, and you were too foolish to realize it.' This wasn't mere dabbling for the sake of knowledge and curiosity; Tom was deeply absorbed in the Dark Arts. Hadn't she had suspicions during the day they'd spent together? She chided herself for not listening to her gut instincts, for allowing herself to swept away by passion. 'But it wasn't merely lust,' she thought to herself, as the sting of tears came to her eyes. 'It felt so right, like we were meant to meet at this time, this place. Oh gods, why is this happening?' 

She heard footsteps. Wand out, she went into a defensive stance. Tom approached from the dark, his wand tip aglow. She saw his smiling face, lighting up upon sight of her, and she felt her heart break all over again. 

"Minerva, dearest. I didn't see you standing there," he began. 

"Expelliarmus!" Minerva shouted. Tom's wand flew out of his hand, and Minerva took it. 

"Minerva, what..." Tom looked truly baffled. She could still see a sheen of red shining through his eyes. 

"I saw it all, Voldemort," she sneered, her voice more derisive than she'd planned. "I know what you are. Where did I fit in your plan? Was I your special plaything? Were those all pretty lies you told me to keep me in bed and away from the woods?" 

"Minerva, what are you talking about?" Tom felt a bubble of panic work its way through his elation. She'd called him Voldemort... How could she have known if she hadn't been there tonight? And why else would she be in a dueling stance, ready to battle him, if not for the fact that... "Modrig was right - you are a Ministry spy." 

"I am an Unspeakable Agent. I failed in my duty this mission, stupid enough to be tricked by your lies." 

"I didn't mean to... I didn't want... I wasn't the only one concealing the truth, Minerva," Tom said defensively. "Your little story was quite convincing. You've had practice since school. How could I believed you were a petty bureaucrat? Was fucking me part of your mission? Is that what Unspeakables are trained to do with Dark wizards these days?" 

"Shut up!" Minerva screamed, feeling sick. She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. "Please, Tom, tell me you're an agent for some Ministry, any Ministry. Please tell me that what I saw tonight wasn't real. Because if it was..." 

"What exactly did you see?" There had to be a way Tom could fix this. there had to be a way he could manipulate things back into his favor. There always was a way. 

"Everything, Tom, every moment of the Dark ritual tonight. Every killing curse, every drop of blood, every swirl of Dark power you channeled into yourself." 

Tom's mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. "How?" Then he remembered that day in the Three Broomsticks so many years ago. How could he have forgotten? "You're an Animagus. That's how." 

Minerva nodded her head. 

Tom slumped down to the ground onto his knees before her. "Minerva, you must believe I never, ever have wanted to hurt you. I was willing to do anything to protect you, even after I was ordered to kill you. I still will do anything. We were getting on so well, that I didn't know how to tell you the truth, didn't know how you'd take it." 

"When were you planning to tell me? Tomorrow, next week, years from now?" The tears were shining in her eyes now. She tried to brush them away, but more took their place. 

"Tonight. I knew I couldn't lie to you any longer. I hoped you would... I hoped you would join me. The Dark Arts are fascinating, Minerva. I have learned so much that had been thought lost to the ages, and I-" 

"Stop, Tom, please. I will never be follower of the Darkness. And after what I saw tonight... How could you, Tom? How long have you been Inviting the Darkness?" 

"Just over a year now," said Tom quietly. 

"Then it's almost too late," muttered Minerva. "Which Grimoire - the Black or the Caliginosus?" 

"Neither," he said, "It has no name. It's a Parselmouth Grimoire I found long ago in India." 

"A Parselmouth Grimoire? But how can you underst... Sweet Circe, you're a Parselmouth, too?" Minerva slumped against the tree. "I suppose it was you who opened the Chamber of Secrets, as well," she said hotly. "No, don't answer. I don't want to know." She held out her hands before her, warding off anymore revelations. 

They were silent for several moments, neither looking at the other. 

"Was all this, with me, a lie?" Minerva finally asked. 

"No, it was never a lie. I love you. I've loved you since the moment I saw you. The short time I've been with you has made me happier than I'd ever known possible. Please believe me." He carefully reached for her wand free hand, taking it in his. 

Minerva began crying and her knees buckled. She let him take her in his arms, let him wrap strong arms around her. He was kissing her hair and her forehead, making shushing noises. The chemistry between them reignited upon touch, and she felt the stirrings of the passion they'd shared. She had to tell him her news and get away from him before she lost control or fortitude to make the right decision. 

"Tom," she said, gently pushing him away from her, "I have something else I must tell you. I'm not sure how, because I know we both used the right charms, but I noticed in my transformation tonight that I was... I verified it twice with a Revelare charm, but I'm... I'm pregnant. And I don't know what to do." 

"You're... going to have a baby? My baby?" 

Minerva nodded her head. "It would seem so," she managed to say. 

"Oh," he said flatly. "Do you even want it? Now, I mean?" 

She hadn't thought about that yet, but even as he asked, she knew she wanted to keep the baby. Hope flared within her for the first time since she'd recognized him at the ritual. "Yes, I do." 

Tom smiled. "I never thought I'd be a father. Oh, Minerva, this is wonderful. I'll do whatever you want me to do, Minerva, name it, if that's what it takes for you to stay with me. We could be a family." At that moment, Tom might have promised even to give up the Dark Arts, but he knew he would never be able leave it for long. If only she'd see his way... 

Minerva smiled too, a fleeting thought of escaping her troubles by going away with Tom. Maybe he would quit using the Dark Arts if she helped him. Maybe there was something in the Dark Mysteries for her after all. She could simply research it, learn more of the taboo subject. The temptation was tantalizing. She knew in her heart, however, what she must do. 

"You can't give up the Dark Arts, Tom, and that's what I would require. It's too much a part of you now." 

"But Minerva, I could try. You could help me." But Tom knew he was lying, even when he spoke the words with such sincerity. After tonight how could he possibly deny himself the power? Maybe, though, maybe if he believed hard enough, she would, too. "Give me the chance, at least. If we're not together, what will we do?" 

Minerva started to speak, but her face crumpled. The sobs came fast, wracking her body. "I don't know. But it's Azkaban for me. They'll know, Tom, they'll know, and it won't matter that I've resigned or I've served them with a flawless record, they'll know." 

"Wait, Minerva, shhh," Tom said, holding her close to him again, rocking her. "What are you talking about?" 

"My superiors in the Unpseakables division. They'll know I've consorted with the enemy. Last month they sent one of my colleagues to Azkaban simply for letting the wife and children of a Dark wizard slip away. When they know I slept with you with consent, I'm done for. Oh gods, why is this happening?" She began pummeling him with her fists, hitting his chest and upper arms as hard as she could. "Why you have to turn out this way? Why did you have to come back into my life all so perfect and just how I needed you? My life is ruined, and it's all your fault!" 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Tom had never said those words and meant them, but he did now. He closed his eyes and held her closely as her fists beat against him. Finally she went limp 

"What am I going to do?" She sighed in his arms, allowing herself the sin of breathing him in and snuggling closer to his warmth. 

"Don't you have strong enough Occlumency skills to keep them out of your thoughts?" 

"Not strong enough. I could fool the Empaths, maybe, but not the strongest Legilimens. They know everything. And agents are stringently scanned upon debriefing." 

"Then you must come away with me. You'll be safe." 

"No, Tom, I can't. I fight the Dark. I don't want to succumb to it." 

He dropped his arms from her and moved away. Anger was starting to swell inside of him, anger at her for not being sensible. If she just ran away with him, the problem would be solved. But he had to protect her, no matter what. 

"I know a way. The Silentium charm." 

"That won't work. I'm banned from using it, and they automatically check for traces of secrecy charms like that." 

"I know how to hide the traces of Silentium. I've done it before and never been found out." 

"Do you... Do you have to use Dark magic?" Minerva quailed, but if it would work, if it would protect herself and the baby... and if it would protect Tom, she'd do it. 

Tom nodded. 

She knew it was wrong, and she knew that she would one day have to answer for this treason, but she didn't care. "Help me, Tom." She was weak. Even in her anger and betrayal, she couldn't help but love him. She reached for their wands which she'd dropped to the ground. Handing him his, she flashed on the thought that he could hex her now, if he wanted to. He could even cast Imperio upon her and force her to do his will. Just as she thought this, she also knew somehow that no harm would come to her. Not by his hand, not now. 

"I'll hide it with a blood charm. I'll have to have a drop of yours. Is that all right?" 

Minerva laughed. "Of course it's not all right. None of this is all right. But I'll give you whatever you need." 

"Minerva, this is foolishness. Just come with me! I'll protect you. You must know that I would never, ever hurt you." 

"I believe you, Tom. You wouldn't hurt me now. But your are Inviting Darkness inside yourself. You know it will slowly work changes in your psyche and in your body. You can't promise my safety forever. Not if you become someone else because of the changes you bring upon yourself." 

He had never thought of his Invitations of Darkness in that way. In his quest to better himself, would he also lose himself? He decided not to dwell on it. "You know how Silentium works, right? We state what we want to keep secret, and after the charm is complete, we will not be physically able to communicate those secrets to anyone but each other." 

"Yes. And if the Silentium is to be broken, we both must agree and cross wands to end it." 

Tom held his wand up, and Minerva touched hers to it. They both spoke at the same time. "Silentium!" 

"The only person I've ever loved is Minerva McGonagall. Minerva is the mother of my child. She is an Animagus and was an Unspeakable Agent. I will love her to the end of my days. I will do my best to protect her and our child against all dangers." 

"I love Tom Marvolo Riddle. He is the father of my child. He is a Dark wizard called Voldemort. I will... I will protect him from discovery by the Ministry of Magic, and I will... I will love him always, even if we must stay apart." 

Together they said, "By this charm of secrecy may our thoughts and tongues be sealed." 

"Minerva, you didn't have to say all that." 

"I meant it. Now for the blood charm, yes?" 

Tom nodded his head. He used the tip of his wand to cut his finger. The blood dripped onto his wand. Minerva copied his actions. Holding the tips together once again, Tom said, "Seal this spell with the powers of the night. Obsconderus!" Minerva felt the rush of Dark magic slam into her, filling her brain with a fuzzy, intoxicating heat. She gasped. It was.. so good. 

Tom saw the effect of the magic upon her. She had tasted the Darkness; maybe it would work on her mind and bring her to him after all. "Your thoughts are hidden now. Nothing will be detected. Your memories will be edited even if they are deposited into a Pensieve." 

"Thank you, Tom" she said. "I can't stay any longer. I have to think things through, and if there's a way, maybe..." 

"Maybe," he said, hopefully. "I'm.. I'm going to leave here tonight, but I want to know... I mean, you will tell me about the baby, won't you?" He was letting her go when he could keep her by his side with a flick of his wrist. But he wouldn't really want her under Imperio. She wouldn't be his Minerva then, she'd just be a simpering copy. And it wouldn't be right, which was a foreign concept for Tom, but true nonetheless. 

Minerva nodded her head. "How will I contact you?" 

"Take this," he said and conjured a small golden heart. "If you touch this and say, "Come to me", I will be by your side in an instant." 

"Even if you are leading a Dark ritual with your followers," she said, a bit more acidly than she'd intended. 

"Especially so. I will be at your beck and call, Minerva. Please let me be." 

"I'll call you when I need you, Tom, I promise." Even as she said the words, she wasn't sure if she'd ever use the magical device at all. He would change, the Darkness would force it. The only question would be how long it would take. If he tried to take away the baby, or tried to hurt her... 

"Do you need to go back to the Inn?" Tom asked, hands helplessly forced into the pockets of his robe. 

"No, I have everything with me. I have to Apparate to a Portkey location." 

"Then it's good-bye, for now." 

"Good-bye, Tom," Minerva whispered, the tears welling again. 

Tom rushed towards her, took her in his arms, and kissed her once more. "I will love you forever, Minerva. Please, don't leave me." 

She touched his face gently with a trembling hand, stepped back, and Disapparated. 


	6. 1956: September's Child

Strange and Wondrous__

__By Vivien 

__

_McGonagall Castle, September 1956_

Minerva's bedroom had settled into a still quiet as the moon rose over the dark loch glistening under her window. She was exhausted, but the adrenaline from the birth of her daughter had not quite dissipated yet. A few hours before, she'd been in hard labor, attended by two skilled midwives, her mother, and her house elf Mimsy. Even with the use of powerful magic, the birth had not been easy and it had not been painless. But when she'd seen her child, heard her cry for the first time, all the fear and worry of the last nine months had drained from her for a moment. Now that she was alone, she felt the wisps of uncertainty spiral into her brain once more. 

She wanted Tom by her side. The heart charm he'd given her hung around her neck on a golden chain. She'd worn it since she'd Apparated back to her family home the day after Christmas, but she'd never spoken the words that would call him to her. One hand even now absentmindedly stroked its smooth contours, wishing for impossible things. To be frank, even though she wanted him - needed him - she was afraid to call him. Afraid of what she would feel, afraid of what he might do, afraid that her tenacious grip on a new life might slip in the face of her desire. 

Closing her eyes and snuggling her swaddled baby closer to her, Minerva reflected on the past months, months that had been dreamlike, surreal. Her resignation from the Department of Unspeakables had been grudgingly accepted, but her pregnancy had made the way easier for her. It was not safe to perform Animagus transformations when one was with child. The final briefing had gone easily. Her lies and vague truths had been accepted with no question. But even as she'd given that last report, she'd felt the tingle of the Dark charm burrowing inside her, reminding her every moment of what she'd done. 

Fleeing London for the highlands of her family home, she'd sought refuge and isolation. She had made up a likely story of a brief affair with an Albanian wizard who'd tragically been killed shortly after she returned to England. It had made her sick to tell these lies, but she'd seen no other way. The charm barred her from even writing Tom's name in her diary. She took solace in the fact that her child would be welcomed with open arms by her family. Every Wizarding baby was a wanted baby, especially those from families as old as the McGonagall clan. 

As the days of her pregnancy passed, Minerva found herself becoming more and more obsessed with the echoing hum of the Dark magic she'd chosen to accept within her. This obsession wasn't about possessing or using more Dark knowledge. Instead she was determined to find a way to rid Tom of the Darkness he'd ritually incorporated within himself. She'd exhausted her own family's ancient libraries, spending countless hours pouring over dusty books devoted to protection against the Dark Arts. When she'd finished there, she'd sought out the Hogwarts library. 

Before she left for her first trip, she'd received an owl from Tom. It was brief, merely asking how she was, stating his longing for her. He hadn't signed it, but left the mark of a golden heart in place of his name. It broke her heart all over again, but she wasn't ready to maintain contact with him. Not yet. Not till she found out something, anything, to help them be together. She penned a terse reply, letting him know she was well, but not able to write him more at the moment. 

Despite her search for something - anything - to help Tom, her efforts were fruitless. The only thing she discovered were ways to protect herself and her growing child. But she had in this time gained something she'd missed for years and years - a semblance of a normal life. She'd reconnected with friends and family, meeting for dinner parties, Quidditch matches, and dances once again. Her manner remained subdued and restrained, but she enjoyed herself more now than she'd had in so very long. It helped take her mind off the worries that consumed her in the dark, lonely nights she lay awake feeling her baby kick within her as the tears fell upon her pillow. 

The owls from Tom continued. Some were brief and almost casual, but some nearly palpated with his loneliness and yearning for her. She continued answering them with brief statements of wellness. She honestly did not know what else to say. 

Now in her arms she held their daughter, dark-haired and dark eyed and full of the promise of both her parents. Minerva finally knew what to say. Plumping up the pillows underneath the baby, she reached one hand from the bundle of blankets to the cool heart resting against her chest. She raised it to her lips, her hand slightly trembling. Checking her bedside table to make sure her wand was within easy reach, she whispered, "Come to me." 

------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Stars shone high above the minaret towers of Alexandria. Warm breezes scented with cumin and roasting meats wafted through an open window of a stately dwelling in the hidden heart of the city. Tom glanced up from the ancient text he had been deciphering. His eyes drifted from the words down through the dark streets of the old Wizarding Quarters, one of the cradles of ancient wisdom of the Wizarding world. His mind drifted into the ruts and furrows he tried to discipline himself from visiting. Minerva... 

He slammed the book shut, freeing a cloud of dust. He stormed across the room, furious at once again allowing his mind to wander to thoughts of her. He hit the wall with his fist, reveling in the pain, which jerked his focus from the perilous realms of his own dangerous thoughts. 

Once the throbbing in his hand subsided, he slowly walked to the window. He looked up into the sky, knowing that the glowing orb above him, the waxing moon, shone not only over him, but over her as well. He put his hurt hand to his eyes and succumbed to the thoughts and worries that had tormented him since she'd left him standing alone in the Albanian forest. 

When she had disappeared that night, he had not been able to think for some moments. He finally began moving; his body felt like he was walking through quicksand. He'd managed to slip back into his turret rooms and back out again, bearing his possessions to Alexandria and a new, uncertain start. For once in his life, he was not sure what to do. 

The days passed and she didn't call for him. He slowly began to sense anger and grief surging through up the numbness. Underlying everything was the raw power that bubbled and boiled through his bloodstream and nervous system. Remarkable things had happened to him, and he wore the power well. Slowly he began to venture out from his suite of rooms purchased with purloined Karkaroff gold. 

A few days after his arrival he'd come across a group of wizards in a small cafe in one of the dingy corners of the Wizards Bazaar. They were swathed in black cotton robes and wore long, grizzled beards. Their cloudy eyes shone with the faintest glint of red as they sat in the shade, sipping their dark black coffees. Tom had approached them, the power in his veins calling out to theirs. The wizards had stopped suddenly, sensing him. Most of the faded away into the recesses of the cafe. But three stayed to meet him, to accept him into their Dark Brotherhood. He would no longer be an apprentice, but he knew he still had much to learn. The Caliphs of the Blood would guide him further in his quest for power and the Dark. 

Tom threw himself into research and ancient rites. He studied and plotted and practiced every waking moment. When he could bear to read or write no longer, he would walk the streets of Alexandria, sometimes going far into the countryside. He did whatever he could to banish Minerva from his mind, but he soon realized how very weak he was. He sent her owls often, carefully worded should they be intercepted. He tried to be patient, but damn her - why didn't she call for him? She didn't even answer his letters sometimes, and for those she did, she graced him with only a terse sentence or two. Didn't she know how much he needed her? Didn't she know that worry for her and their child snaked its way into nearly every moment of the day, no matter how hard he tried to keep busy? 

As the months went by, he tried to hate her, to burn her memory from him. He contacted the fools who pledged their fealty to him that night in Albania, reminding them that they are his. Embracing his lifelong dreams of destiny he plots and plans until his brain is overwhelmed with strategy. He curses Minerva McGonagall and all those as high minded and blind like her in the Wizarding world. But still, at night when all is quiet, he pens long and heartfelt letters to her, some sent to her by owl, some not. He dreams of her by his when he rises to dominate the magical world. When would she see that her place was with him? She would be his queen, given everything she could ever want, everything he had. 

He remembered her words that night telling him how the Darkness he embraced would alter him as the years went by. Even now he scoffed at that idea. He was in control, not the magic. The arcane knowledge, the power that was part of him, the Dark secrets he was learning from the Brotherhood... it was all under his control. She would understand that one day. He wondered whether she would even tell him when their child was born. He wondered why he should even care anymore - these feelings he had for her were weaknesses that could be easily exploited by enemies. He should stop thinking or caring about her. Maybe a selective Obliviation would work... 

It was then he heard her voice whisper in his ear. "Come to me." Tom froze, not sure if the voice was real or imagined. He stood staring for a moment at the spires of the old city's minarets. 'I shouldn't go,' he thought angrily 'That would show her.' Even as the words formed inside his head he was preparing to Disapparate. He had to go. For better or for worse their fates were intertwined. The love for her mingled with the anger in his heart as he went to her side. 


	7. 1956: September's Child Part 2

Strange and Wondrous 

by Vivien 

September's Child Part 2 

McGonagall Castle, 1956 

He stood, shrouded in the shadows of her bedchamber, dressed in robes of white that shone in the darkness. His arms were crossed, and his face was closed to her, blank and furious at the same moment. Minerva felt gooseflesh prickle on her skin and sensed a change in the air with his presence. Who had she invited into her room? She glanced at the bedside table to make sure her wand was in close reach. Her room was protected by the ancestral magic of her family home, but she had not thought to place further wards upon herself or the room. She hadn't thought… That had been her problem ever since Tom had crashed into her life last Christmas. Stupid, how could she have been so stupid? Reckless, out of control… She would never let anything like this happen to her again. 

"Did I interrupt?" she said, tartly, anger at Tom – at herself – swelling like a sickly bruise on her heart. 

His eyes flashed with malice, and Minerva grabbed for her wand. A wave of pain and nausea surged through her. She wondered how quickly the House Elves would be able to come to her aid. Not quickly enough, she imagined. Breathing hard and trying not to jostle the baby, Minerva held her wand before her. The words she'd wished to speak withered in her fear and pain. 

Time stopped, it seemed to Minerva. She couldn't imagine what would happen when the moment ended. There was no future - only past and present and regrets and love gone so badly. Tom broke his gaze finally, looking down at his sandaled feet. He glanced back up at her briefly, pain mirrored in his eyes, and then he covered his face in his hands. 

Tom had been fully prepared to cut Minerva with his words, to wound her with his anger at her rejection, but he'd never considered hurting her physically. When he saw the fear on her face – fear of him – he'd felt an emotion with which he'd not had much experience. Shame at his actions, shame for how she must see him now, washed over him, especially when he'd noticed the bundle of pink flesh swaddled in her arms. His irrational weakness for this woman opened wide and devoured him. 

Stepping tentatively towards her, he held his arms out in front of him so she could see he had no wand ready to use against her. "Forgive me, Minerva. I've tried so hard to hate you. It made it easier, you see, than to feel your absence. I promised to protect you and our child. I sealed that promise with powerful magic. I won't hurt you, Minerva. Not now, not ever. I… it's been difficult without you. I'm… sorry to have frightened you." 

Minerva nodded her head slightly, her wand dipping. 

"Why didn't you call for me?" His voice was small and so full of hurt. If anyone but Minerva had heard him speak like this he would have killed them on the spot. 

Minerva's wand hand was shaking. She couldn't have held it up much longer. The relief that washed over her with his words was that much greater. Slowly she lowered the wand to the blankets beside her. "I don't know, Tom. It's been difficult for me, as well. But I have missed you." Tears prickled in her eyes, but she refused to let herself cry again. 

Tom took another step closer. "Are you all right?" With uncrossing his arms he didn't seem to quite know what to do with them. Minerva saw in him the boy she'd once known, that shy, dedicated boy who'd have done anything to please her. 

"I'm tired and more than a little uncomfortable, but I'm fine. Please, Tom, come and see our daughter." 

He moved slowly towards her bed. The moonlight claimed him from the shadows. His gaze flickered between Minerva and his child in her arms. Minerva had dark circles under her eyes and she looked pale and exhausted. She smiled at him a bit wanly then arranged the blankets about the baby so he could better see her. The baby - his daughter, he thought with incredulity – had the black hair of both her parents and slept with no worries in her little mind. 

"She's beautiful," he murmured. 

Minerva motioned him to sit beside her on the bed. He carefully settled down. She smelled scents of cumin and hot sand on his tanned skin and felt a pang of longing for him, to touch him, to keep him with her always. 

Tom sat facing her, his thigh pressed against hers. He had wanted to feel her touch for so long. There was a quiet dread balling in his stomach that told him this might be the last time, no matter what they might wish or hope. He placed his hand over hers where it covered the baby's tiny chest and took that moment to look into the eyes of the woman he'd idolized since the moment they'd met. 

She met his gaze, but to her horror she perceived a faint glint of red shining from his dark eyes and reflected in the silver light from the window. Nothing had changed, no matter how she wished it had. She was rescued from this realization then by the stirring of the baby. 

Tom smiled down at her. "When was she born?" he asked, stroking her soft cheek with one hand, while still clasping Minerva's hand with the other. 

"A few hours ago," said Minerva. 

"What are you going to call her?" 

"Miranda," said Minerva. "The name means 'strange and wonderful'. It's how I've felt about how she came into my life." 

Tom raised Minerva's hand to his lips and kissed it in response. He was silent for a time before he said with a catch in his voice, "It suits her well. Miranda McGonagall." 

"I want you to give her a name, too. What should her second name be?" 

Tom thought a moment, his hands connecting him to the only true family he would ever know. Now that he was here, before her, taking in the sights of this dear child and her beautiful mother, he wondered if this could be enough. Could he stay here with her and forsake his destiny, forget the thrill of power? He wanted it to be enough. But he knew he was lying to himself. "Grace," he said finally. "Miranda Grace." 

'For the grace I will never know if I leave this woman,' he thought. 

Minerva nodded. "Miranda Grace." 

Silence fell between them. The light of the moon enveloped the young family in a soft, calming glow. 

"How have you been, Tom? Where have you been?" 

"A long way from here," he said. "May I hold her?" 

Minerva hesitated, and impatience twisted on Tom's face. "I told you I wouldn't hurt either of you. I won't Disapparate with her either. Why don't you trust me?" 

"You know why," said Minerva calmly, gathering the baby up. "But of course you may hold her." She lifted the baby to him, and he carefully took her. 

Miranda opened her eyes and yawned. Tom smiled, the firm, warm weight of the infant's body settling into his arms. It was an amazing experience to hold this life, this little life that he'd been a part of creating. He was rocking her slightly, admiring her tiny features, when into his mind sprang the potions and charms that could be made with an infant's blood – potions to seal fates and hide misdeeds, charms to mislead and enslave. It horrified him. He had appraised his own daughter's potential sacrificial benefits in Dark magic. Perhaps Minerva had been right when she'd told him the Darkness would change him. He somewhat hurriedly handed Miranda back to her mother and walked to the window. Looking out on the dark loch, he listened to the Darkness sing in his veins, calling more power for him by any means necessary. He didn't want to think about this, not now. 

"I've some news," Minerva said after an awkward silence. "I've been asked to teach at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore has been made Headmaster, and he asked me straightaway. I start after the Easter holidays." 

Tom grimaced at the name Dumbledore. "How wonderful for you," he said archly. 

"I was hoping… I wanted you to stay, Tom," said Minerva. "I've been doing research on Banishing Darkness spells, and Dumbledore was intrigued when I told him – in the vaguest terms, of course – about my theories. He would be a great help to you, and…" 

"No," said Tom sharply. "I will never want his help. And why do you insist I must be cured of what I am? I have a destiny, Minerva, a great one. You could join me with our daughter and we could rule the world. Come with me, Minerva, please. I would make you so happy." 

"No," said Minerva. "I couldn't, Tom. You know that deep down. Already you're changing into something else, something that won't allow the man I loved to exist." 

Red sparkled behind his eyes as anger rushed through him. How dare she speak to him that way? A vision of slapping her for her impudence flashed through his brain and then he shook his head to snap out of the uncalled mood. She was right. He walked slowly back to her bedside. "I know," he whispered. He sat down beside her once again and took her hand. "I'll send you money every year. At Christmas, for her upkeep." 

"Tom, you don't need to do th…" 

"No, I do need to," Tom said fiercely. "My father abandoned me upon my birth. I'd never do that to my own child. I may be evil, but I am honorable." 

"Of course, Tom, of course," said Minerva. "And I'll send you pictures, if you want, of Miranda each year. I'll, oh gods, Tom, I'll miss what could have been." 

As the tears began, he reached towards her, enfolding her carefully into his arm so as not to disturb the baby. He kissed her forehead and said, "We were destined to be together, Minerva. I wish that it would have been for longer." 

She leaned up and pressed her lips softly to his. 

"Stay with me, " she breathed. 

"Come with me," he said softly back. 

Neither spoke for several minutes as they held each other for the last time. Miranda began whimpering, and Tom moved back. He stroked the baby's soft hair. "Goodbye, sweet one," he said. "Goodbye, Minerva. Remember that I will protect you and Miranda, no matter what. I will always cherish you both, no matter what else might change." 

"I hope that stays true, Tom," said Minerva, her eyes shining with tears. "Goodbye." 

Tom stood up and with one last longing glance, he Disapparated. Minerva picked up the baby and held her closely to her chest. 

The door to her bedchamber opened. "Mistress, does you need anything," said Mimsy. "Mimsy thought you might be needing her." 

"Could you help me put the baby in the bassinet?" she managed to say. 

"Yes, Mistress," said the House Elf, moving quickly and efficiently. She took Miranda and placed her softly in the bassinet. Then she returned to Minerva and patted her hand. "Mistress is sad. Can Mimsy do anything to help?" 

"No, Mimsy, thank you," said Minerva. "No wait, could you bring me a draft of Dreamless Sleep?" 

"But Mistress, the baby will need feeding soon," said Mimsy. 

"Oh, yes, that's right," said Minerva, suddenly even more tired and miserable than she'd been before. "Some Soothing Tea, then, please." 

Mimsy hurried off to her task. Minerva pressed the hand that Tom had held to her lips and began sobbing with gasping breaths. The past nine months had thrown her life into a disarray of conflicting emotion, change, and loss. She couldn't regret her affair with Tom, no matter what might come, because the end result had been this beautiful child. Her life was much happier in many ways than it had been nine months ago, but she was intensely sad at losing Tom forever. She would never let anything like this happen again. The rest of her life would be one of planned reserve. And yet the memory of those heady days being swept off her feet would stay with her always. 

Pulling herself together, she quieted herself with a few deep, wavering breaths. She waved her wand at the bassinet, and it scooted closer to the bed. She looked down at her sleeping daughter with love. Her strange and wondrous life had brought her this sweet little girl. For that she would always be thankful. 

Minerva's story continues in "Betrayal and Confessions, 1978" 


	8. 1978: Severed

Strange and Wondrous By Vivien  
  
Albania and McGonagall Castle, Christmas Day, 1978  
  
The mountain was one of the highest in Albania, and its craggy peak had been shrouded in cloud and mystery for as long as anyone remembered. Wizard's Peak it was called, and it had been called this for centuries. Magic users avoided the treacherous slopes of the mountain, perceiving the malice that dwelt here amongst the slipping boulders and narrow trails. Muggles stayed clear of the mountain altogether.  
  
If a witch or wizard, or even a lost Muggle shepherd, might tread one of the trails winding up into the treacherous heights of the peak, he or she might encounter the gaping mouth of a cave. Upon looking inside, this person might perceive a pile of rubble, a cave in. And this person would then feel a wave of palpable dread warning a hasty retreat. No one would go inside the cave. For within the depths of the cave was a highly warded, Unplottable cavern, a stronghold.  
  
The one wizard who could access this secret place counted on the reputation and folklore of Wizard's Peak, along with his own spells, to provide him a refuge from the rest of the world. At one time, he had come here often, escaping followers and enemies alike. Behind the rock fall was a room. It was of simple brick, with one enchanted high window that would always and forever let in the silver glow of a winter moon. The room contained a four- poster bed, an armchair beside a crackling fire, and bookshelves upon bookshelves.  
  
It had been years since Tom Marvolo Riddle had escaped here. It had been years since the wizard had even remembered who Tom Marvolo Riddle was. But he was here now, and no one knew, not even his closest minions. This interlude in his former sanctuary was not one of rest, but of torment.  
  
He sat in the armchair, staring into the flames of the enchanted fire. Tonight he did not feel like Lord Voldemort, all-powerful Dark Wizard, master of many, pursuer of immortality. His very presence in this place proved his weakness, which he'd thought he'd purged from himself years ago. Voldemort had supplanted Tom Marvolo Riddle, or so he'd thought. And yet here he was, still tied to his past with cords of pain and longing.  
  
Moving pictures of a dark-haired little girl with eyes so like his own were strewn about the armchair, spilling out from a box on his lap. In some of the pictures was the face of the woman he'd tried to forget. She looked at him sadly from each one, even as their daughter radiated happiness. He slowly began packing away the photographs. He would not be coming here anymore, and he would not be taking these images with him. This would be the ending of this chapter in his life. This would be the ending for Tom Marvolo Riddle. Voldemort could afford him one final night.  
  
Once the pictures had been replaced, Tom reached for a red bound book on the shelf. He opened it, shuffling through the empty pages to make sure it would be suitable. He conjured a quill and ink well, and then holding the quill and his wand in one hand, he began to write and cast an elaborate incantation.  
  
Minerva's study was freezing, but she was too numb to notice. Even with the fortification of another shot of whiskey, she was too anesthetized by shock to feel anything. The shadows of the room suited her mood, although Mimsy had managed to light two candles earlier in the evening.  
  
She'd been here since the previous night, hiding in this room in McGonagall Castle. It was part of her old suite of rooms, and even though she officially lived at Hogwarts most of the year, she called these rooms home. After all, the next room was where Miranda had come into the world.  
  
All around her were moving photos of herself and Miranda. Her baby girl, gurgling and cooing in her cradle. Mother and daughter on holiday in France, Miranda beaming and showing missing front teeth. Miranda at Hogwarts in Gryffindor robes. Miranda in her robes from the Quidditch World Cup playoffs last summer, when she'd played for the English National Team. Miranda, her beautiful, intelligent, strong, and talented daughter.  
  
The house elves had wanted to cover the pictures, but she had refused. It would have hurt her more to see the frames darkened and quiet.  
  
Her daughter was dead, and it was her fault. She might as well have held the wand that struck her down.  
  
Minerva cradled her head in her hands. She had never regretted her dalliance with Tom, because the result of their affair had been Miranda. He had made good on his promise to send money to support his daughter. Every year a scruffy barn owl came to her window with a pouch of gold, and in the early years of Miranda's life, a letter. Tom never mentioned reuniting and focused instead on his thoughts and questions about his daughter. Minerva would always respond, following his lead by sending pictures of Miranda and glowing reports of her year's accomplishments.  
  
But as the years went by, the letters stopped, even though the gold did not. Minerva placed it into a savings vault for Miranda; it would be hers when she came of age. Minerva was saddened whenever she thought of Tom, of what they could have had. But ever did she delight in Miranda, her strange and wondrous gift.  
  
For the most part, Minerva was content with her life. She had a career she enjoyed; teaching had not been something she'd ever considered before, but once she was in her classroom, she found she had not only talent and skill to teach the young minds before her, but she actually enjoyed it. During the holidays, she spent time with Miranda and with old friends and worked on various research projects. She had made a pleasant life for herself and her child, or so she had thought until a few years ago.  
  
When she had first heard the name Voldemort in conjunction with rumors of Dark Rites being performed once again in England, she had held out a slight hope that it was not Tom, but some other Dark wizard. She knew that this could not be true. Immediately she had started researching the Silentium charm, in a frantic attempt to figure out some way to break its hold over her. She still felt the call of the Darkness binding the charm secretly within her brain when she thought too long about Tom or Voldemort. She even broached the subject with Albus, who knew more about Defense against the Dark Arts than anyone she'd known. He could not help her, saying that as far as he knew, Silentium was unbreakable without mutual consent, and as a result, a powerful weapon that the Dark forces could use against those of the Light, and vice versa. Minerva had quailed inwardly at the thought of this. She knew secrets that would help in the fight against Darkness but she could not share them.  
  
That Christmas, she'd tried a few different magical ways to track the owl sent to her on its annual mission. If she could pinpoint Tom's location, she might be able to let Aurors know. But her own owl was unable to follow it and returned forlornly with an unread message to Tom in its beak. It sulked in the Owlery for a week afterwards, feeling it had let her down. The Tracking Charm she'd placed on it disintegrated once Tom's owl had crossed over the English Channel. The other spells she'd attempted also came to naught. She fancied it would have been more effective to tie a thread to its talon and follow its path that way.  
  
In no way did she want to raise Tom's suspicions or risk his ire - she did not know who he was anymore. The Darkness he'd absorbed could have changed him entirely by now. She worried not just for her own safety, but always first and foremost for Miranda's. She was a teenager now, and would be a qualified witch herself soon, but Minerva still could not tell her about the danger her own father could present to her. Along with vain research into breaking the Silentium charm, Minerva once more began formulating strategies to fight the Dark Arts.  
  
More and more unrest and atrocities linked with the name Voldemort became evident as the 1970's passed. When Albus reformed the Order of the Phoenix, he invited Minerva to join. She did so wholeheartedly, even though she could not utter the name of the wizard they had all promised to fight. She called him You Know Who, and was amazed when the name stuck, adopted by those too frightened of his growing power to speak his name. And there were many who were terrified. The tales of his power over magic and over others were chilling. Even as she banned together with the Order, she lost sleep every night over the fact that conspiring in silence with the man who would become Voldemort had made her a traitor. Rationally she told herself that she had no way of knowing what would happen, but in her heart of hearts she condemned herself for suspecting from the very first moment and not caring one whit.  
  
Her one consolation through the darkening times had been Miranda. But yesterday all of Minerva's lies and concealments had born bitter fruit. Miranda had been in Hogsmeade to meet with friends before coming home to McGonagall Castle for the holiday. They had all gone to the Hogshead, it being a favorite haunt of theirs since school days. Lily Evans and Sirius Black had first noticed the figures in black cloaks enter. A confrontation had ensued, for Miranda had also been a member of the Order, as had all of her friends present that night. They knew Voldemort's supporters when they saw them. The two Death Eaters had been caught off guard, but quickly the curses had flown quickly and thickly. While attempting to deflect a poorly aimed Nerve Disruption curse from a group of innocent bystanders, Miranda had been struck in the heart. She had died in seconds.  
  
The Death Eaters had escaped and the Aurors assigned to the case had not, so far, been able to track them. Alastor was the agent in charge, and if he couldn't find them, no one could. Her daughter's death had made the front page of the Daily Prophet that Christmas morning, but the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had concealed the details of her death until further investigation could be completed.  
  
And now, Minerva was lost in the torment of her guilt. She had had the knowledge to possibly stop Voldemort years ago. If not for her traitorous heart, her daughter might be sitting beside her laughing, instead of being laid out in her finest robes in the McGonagall family crypt. How had it come to this?  
  
A tapping on the window startled her. It was the scruffy brown owl. In its talons was a book. Minerva grabbed her wand and considered blasting it out of the sky. Finally however, she took pity on the bird, and simply opened the window. It flew into the room and dropped the book onto the desk. Then it fluttered to the windowsill and landed. Minerva's stomach balled into a sickly cold cramp. It had been instructed to wait.  
  
Her wand at the ready, she tentatively walked to the desk and picked up the book. Sitting down because her legs would no longer hold her up, she carefully opened it. On the blank first page of the book, words slowly appeared as if being written in an invisible hand.  
  
Words must be said, Minerva. If you would hear them, write yes.  
  
She should take this book straight to Albus or Alastor. She should throw it into a fire or cast into the depths of the loch. She should write yes.  
  
Somehow a quill was in her hand, and she was writing. As soon as she had written the word, a burst of bright light erupted from the book, and then came a sensation of falling as Minerva was pulled into the pages.  
  
She was in Tom's old room at the Karkaroff mansion. The moonlight flooded through the high window, casting deep shadows. From one of those shadows stepped Tom, the Tom she had known, the Tom she had loved with a reckless passion. She sank to her knees, vaguely aware of the wand still in her hand, but her mind felt disconnected from her body.  
  
"How?" she managed to utter.  
  
He came to stand in front of her, a sad smile on his face. He was so young, so beautiful. Minerva closed her eyes, knowing that this could easily be a trap that would end her life.  
  
"It's a complicated bit of magic actually," Tom said quietly. "I played about with giving my memories life in school, but this is me. Or rather an aspect of me." He reached down and touched her shoulders lightly.  
  
Minerva looked up, tears in her eyes. "What do you want?"  
  
Tom took her hands and raised her up to her feet. "I know our daughter is dead. Those responsible. have been taken care of." His face twisted with hatred. "They weren't supposed to. I thought I had more control over my followers. I will from now on."  
  
"This is. this is unbelievable," she said. "Why have you done this? Seeing you is. it's agony to me. You've already murdered my daughter, what more do you want of me?"  
  
"You were the only person I ever accepted into my life who was pure of heart, Minerva. I used to cherish your memory, even if it was a weakness." He reached for her hand and cradled it gently to his chest.  
  
"You were right, by the way, about the Darkness changing me. To create this enchantment, I had to remember who I used to be, and it wasn't easy. I may be evil, but I have the capacity to grieve. I never wanted our daughter hurt. As Voldemort I wanted to use her in some way eventually, but even then I wouldn't have purposely hurt her." He paused, and silence grew between them. She could smell candle wax and felt the warmth of the fire. "Minerva, this is the last time I'll think of my past with you."  
  
"What do mean?" said Minerva. She could feel his chest rise and fall under her hand. How had he created this spell? The power involved.  
  
" Our last connection has been severed, Minerva. We are enemies, as we should have always been."  
  
He held out his wand. "I wish to break the Silentium charm. I will release you from your bond to me."  
  
Minerva slowly brought her wand to cross his. She looked in his eyes, and even now, with the anger and the grief churning within her, she felt an overwhelming yearning for the memory of Tom. She closed her eyes.  
  
"I release you, Minerva McGonagall from our pact of Silentium. Finite Incantatem." Tom caressed her cheek. "Goodbye, Minerva."  
  
"I release you, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Finite Incantatem," Minerva whispered. She had one more glimpse of his sad smile as the world turned white and she swirled back into the coldness of her chamber. The owl hopped down from its perch and snatched the book from the floor where it had fallen. It swooped out the window, and Minerva never saw it again.  
  
She sat frozen on the floor for a moment, as she processed what had just happened. Her heart was buried in grief, but her spirit felt lighter than before. The guilt was still pressing upon her, but now she would be able to tell all she'd been forced to keep hidden. She'd tell even if it meant Azkaban. Her memories were once more her own. The tears came freely now, where before they'd been staid by her impotence.  
  
There was a soft knocking on the door. "Minerva? May I come in?" It was Albus. Minerva struggled to her feet, conjuring a handkerchief. She would tell Albus now. He would know what to do with the information, what to do with her.  
  
"Yes," she said.  
  
He entered the room, carefully shutting the door behind him. "I came as soon as I could get away. I am so sorry, Minerva. Is there anything I can do?"  
  
"I must. oh, Albus, I must tell you some troubling things. Will you listen to my confession?"  
  
Albus nodded and said gravely, "I know some of what you need to say, Minerva, and I can guess why you've not told me before. Miranda had her father's eyes. You will find no condemnation from me for affairs of the heart long since past." Albus opened his arms to her, and Minerva rushed to them, sobbing with relief and refreshed sorrow. She was free, but at a high cost. The words tumbled out with her tears, and something like hope wriggled its way once again into her heart. 


	9. 1998: Epilogue

Strange and Wondrous: Epilogue By Vivien  
  
Author's note: This is epilogue will eventually tie in to the sequel to my story Regaining, which focuses on Hermione.  
  
June 1998 Hogwarts  
  
White and red bursts of light exploded throughout the chamber far under the dungeons of Hogwarts. A fierce magical wind thrashed the occupants. Minerva could barely stand in the gale, and she wasn't sure how the children were managing it. Her wand hand vibrated with a steady, powerful throbbing as she held it on Voldemort. Minerva focused all of her powers in keeping the magic flowing from her wand. Severus stood beside her, his face twisting with effort as his wand arm trembled with the power of the Staying charm.  
  
They had captured Voldemort; the plan was working. Minerva could see the semicircle of students, children still, around Voldemort. Hermione's nose was bleeding profusely but still she kept her wand up with her teeth gritted and hate in her eyes. Harry was mouthing the words for the killing curse; he would be ready if their plan failed. Fear battled with hopeful determination on the tired faces of Neville, Ron, and Ginny.  
  
Red strands of energy erupted from the monstrous body of the Dark wizard and whipped through the air to Albus Dumbledore, where they were captured and transfigured into silver filaments that wafted up through the ceiling. Dumbledore's voice boomed the incantation to draw the Darkness from Voldemort's body. Minerva again sent a quick prayer to any gods that would listen to spare his life as a result.  
  
Voldemort was writhing in red mist. Terrible screams issued from his lips, but Dumbledore's voice remained steady and commanding.  
  
Minerva watched in horror as cadaverous skin began disintegrating from the release of the magic that had kept Voldemort alive and bound to this corporeal form. His face shifted, losing its alien shape. His eyes were no longer red, but the dark color she remembered. Then the eyes closed and the screams stopped. The red mist swirled around him in a funnel as it was sucked towards Dumbledore and transformed. The last of it was brought out of Voldemort's body with an explosion that flashed with a white so bright that Minerva's eyes were blinded even as she was thrown back against the stone walls.  
  
When she came to moments later, the wind had stopped, and silver filaments crackled and snapped throughout the room. The children were unconscious on the floor, and she could see the crumpled body that had been Voldemort prone and unmoving. She shakily rose to her feet, her wand out and ready to deal with him, if need be. Her eyes darted to Albus, who had also collapsed. His skin was nearly translucent and his breathing labored, but a look of peace was set upon his face. She was aware of Severus crawling towards him, and she advanced upon Voldemort.  
  
She knelt down and pressed the wand to Voldemort's heart. There was no movement, nor would there be. The robes covered bones and dust. Voldemort had been defeated. She quickly transfigured the remains into a gold heart in memory of the man the monster had once been. She slipped it into her pocket and turned to the children. Hermione was looking towards her with glazed eyes, and Harry's mouth was still murmuring the words he'd been prepared to use though his eyes were closed. Minerva went to each of them, saying quick healing spells over each of them that would ease their injuries till they could be moved to the infirmary. Finally, taking a shaky breath, she turned to face Albus. She could tell his life was ebbing, and the tears prickled in her eyes.  
  
Severus held Dumbledore's head in his lap, his wand waving while he frantically spoke healing charms to no avail. She walked quickly towards the two men, knowing there was not much anyone could do. She sank down to her knees and took Albus's hands in her own.  
  
"Albus, it's over," she said, her voice wavering. "You've done it."  
  
"We've done it, my dear," he whispered. "Take care of them, Minerva. Take care of Hogwarts."  
  
"I will, Albus," she said, "I promise."  
  
Albus Dumbledore sighed then and smiled up at the two people who loved him most. Then the light faded from his eyes, and the world's greatest wizard was no more. Minerva gently moved him from Severus's lap and laid him on the floor. She conjured a sheet to cover him.  
  
Severus was crying. She'd seen him look this broken only once before, and she knew that the loss of Dumbledore was greater for him in many ways than it was for her. She took him in her arms as a mother would a child. But she didn't have much time. Consolation would have to wait.  
  
"I need you, Severus," she said. "We still have a battle to fight. You must protect the children. Can you do that for me?"  
  
Severus nodded his head and wiped his eyes. "Yes," he said in a rough voice. "I can."  
  
They helped each other stand, and Minerva opened the wards on the door. "I'll send help as soon as I can. Keep an eye on Hermione - she lost a great deal of blood."  
  
Minerva hurried down the narrow hallway to join the Order in the Battle for Hogwarts.  
  
Thirty-six hours later Minerva finally collapsed into her own bed. The battle had been decisively won, although the cost in lives on both sides had been high. The student population had been safely evacuated at the time of the attack, and all but a few had been safely sent home. The few who would never go home again had fought valiantly beside the Aurors and Order members, but there were others, mostly Slytherins, who had gone ominously missing. More grievous was the loss of so many fine Aurors and friends, but she could not dwell on that at this moment.  
  
The events of the past two days were blurring together, but fragments of pain stuck out in her mind. Not having Albus to turn to had been the hardest part. It didn't seem real to her yet, but she knew that the reality of his absence would hit her hard in the coming days.  
  
She had made time between the funeral, the clean up of the battle, and assuming the duties of Headmistress to Apparate to McGonagall Castle. A gold heart now rested in the crypt that would one day hold her own body.  
  
As her head hit the pillow, she immediately eased into a deep sleep. Images of Miranda as a little girl laughing in the arms of her smiling father drifted through her dreams. She also saw Albus, hale and hearty once again, walking beside her in her new office, encouraging her with kind words. When she awoke the next day, her pillow was wet from tears, but she was at peace. She had known grief and loss before, and she had the strength and determination to face the new day before her.  
  
The End Written from December 2002 to January 2003 


End file.
